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FOR LOVE'S SWEET SAKE 



FOR LOVE'S SWEET 
SAKE 

g)electeti ^poemsf of ilotie in all {ipooti^ 

EDITED BY 

G. HEMBERT WESTLEY 



'THE STORY OF ALT. STORIES, SWEET AND OLD, 
SWEETEST TO LOVERS THE LAST TIME 'TIS TOLD." 



BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 

1899 





42794 

Copyright, 1899, by Lee and Shepard. 



AH Rights Reserved. 



For Love's Sweet Sake. 
TV/o COPIES RECEIVED 




Norfajooti 5PrfSS 

J. S. Cashing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 






MY DEAR FRIEND AIMEE 



^ 



(Bit tjaije C gatfjereti f lotoers for tfjce 
In t\)t fair, shiect summer time, 

^nt« prettg sljells bg tije sfjimmcring sea 
®J[Ef)en our gouttj bias in its prime. 

&a in memorg of t!}at gestergear 

®2Ei)iclj tiiti all so Ijappg probe, 
i Ijabe gatl}ereii tljis fragrant posg, Uear, 

jFrom tlje flobjcrg fielUs of ilobe. 

G. H. W. 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

For kind permission to use a number of the poems 
in this collection the editor offers his sincere thanks to 
the publishing houses that have extended this courtesy 
to his publishers and himself. Credit is hereby given to 
Houghton, Mifflin, and Company, by special arrange- 
ment with whom poems by Longfellow, T. B. Aldrich. 
and |. G. Saxe are used ; to G. P. Putnam's Sons for the 
poem, " The Rosary," by Robert Cameron Rogers ; to 
the Frederick A. Stokes Company for three poems by 
Marj' Berri Chapman ; to Little, Brown, and Company 
for the poem, •• Two Truths,-' by Helen Hunt Jackson, 
the poem, '• Fate," by Susan Marr Spalding ; and to 
De Wolfe, Fiske, and Company for two poems by 
Owen Innsley ; also to Miss Helen ^1. Reeve Aldrich. 
sister of the late very promising young poetess, Anne 
Reeve Aldrich ; and to Barton Gray, the Southern 
poet. The editor has tried to be very careful in this 
matter of permission, and if, through being unable to 
vii 



trace a fugitive poem to its original source, he has 
failed to give due credit to any poet or publishing 
house, he herewith and beforehand presents his most 
humble apologies. 

G. H. W. 
Boston, April, 1899. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I. Love has a morning — light and glad . i 

II. Love has a noontide — fair . , , 49 

III. Love has an evening — sighing, sad . . 105 

IV. Love has a night — despair . . '157 



INDEX 



A birthday greeting 

A broken sonnet 

Absence 

Absence 

Absent, yet present 

A cycle 

A false step 

A farewell . 

A heart for every one 

A love letter 

A love letter 

A love's life 

A love test 

A love thought . 

A remonstrance . 

A thorn 

A valentine 

A woman's answer 

A woman's complaint 

A woman's question 

A year ago . 

After all 

After love . 




. Henry Edlin 

Clo Graves 

Matthew Ar^iold 

Frances Antie Kemble 

Lord Lytton 

C. Brooke 

E. B. Browning 

. Charles Swain 

Owen Meredith 

Carl Herloszsohn 

H. Ernest N'ichol 

Owen Meredith 

Mary T. Keiley 
Lyaia M. Wood 

Adelaide Anne Procter 

Lord Strangford 

. G. Butt 

Arthur Symons 



PAGE 

i8 

135 
146 
119 

53 

177 

164 

132 

23 

94 

164 

182 

14 

36 

116 

131 

14 
167 
126 
54 
52 
109 
171 



After many clays . 
Alas, the songs ! . 
An appeal . 
An interlude 
An unequal game 
At the dance 
At your gate 
Awake ! 



Because you love me, dear 
Burnt out 



Changes 
Comedy 
Constancy in absence 



Dance song 

De Profundis 

Deserted 

Do I love thee! 

Doubt 

Do you 

Drifting away 



Epigram 

Fate . 
Finis . 
Forbidden . 
Forever 
( Forget thee 
Forgive me now 
For love's sweet sake 



Philip Bourke Mars ton 

John W. De Lys 

. Florence Henniker 



Augusta De Gruchy 

. Barton Gray 

Torn Dutt 



PAGE 
122 

106 
27 

IIO 
12 

108 



" Viola'" 42 
. 182 



Owen Meredith \'i,2. 

Thotnas Bailey Aldrich 25 

70 



F. W. L. Adams 



Ethel De Fonblanque 

. John Godfrey Saxe 

Mary Berri ChapJ7ia7i 



. Barton Gray 

Gerald Massey 

Susan Marr Spalding 



Elizabeth Beny 
. John Moultrie 



E. Matheson 



160 
176 

34 

72 

128 

115 

42 

106 
184 
179 
172 
136 
107 

49 



Friends 
From afar . 
From the depths 
From the Persian 

Gifts . 

Give me more love 

Good-bye 

Good-bye 



Had I but known 

Half-hearted 

Half-way in love 

Hast thou forgotten me 

Hawthorn . 

Her answer 

Her eyes 

Her last words 

Her roses . 

How love comes 

I do not love thee 
I love thee . 
I love thee . 
I love thee . 
I love you, dear 
I think of thee 
I want you . 
If the heart be true 
If only I might write 
If only you were here 
If thou wert false 
Incompleteness . 



PAGE 

. Samziel Wood 120 

129 

166 

/. B. B. Nichols 66 

Juliana Horatia Ewing 61 

Thomas Carew 142 



Clement Scott 



J. B. B. Nichols 
Philip J. Holdsworih 



Mary Berri Chapman 
. " Viola " 



Owen Innsly 
H. IV. Longfellow 

Ho 71. Mrs. Norto7t 

. M. A. Baines 

John Oxenfoi'd 

. Thomas Hood 



Matthison 



Georze MacDonald 



Hester A. Benedict 

Arthur L. Salmon 

. Octave Feuillet 



166 

118 

24 

25 
168 

91 
61 

31 
162 
146 

51 

82 
7 

37 

31 
3 

40 

35 
34 
29 

114 
90 

175 



Kissing inducements 



Last words . 
Late love 
Life's pity . 
Life's unexpressed 
Life without love 
Light . 
Longing 
Longings 
Long years ago 
Lost and found 
Lost love 
Love . 
Love . 
Love . 
Love . 
Love and pity 
Love cannot die 
Love is a tree 
Love is forever 
Love me if I live 
Lave me not 
Love not 
Love's a riddle 
Love's colors 
Love's course 
Love's flame 
Love's gifts . 
Love's language 
Love's punishments 
Love's roses 
Love's waking 



M. E. Martyn 



Amie Elders 



W. Bourdillon 
G. H. Westley 



Atidreiv Lang 
Charles Dickens 



G. H. Westley 



Augusta De Gruchy 
E. E. Bradford 
Barry Cornwall 
John Wilbye 
Hon. Mrs. Norton 
. Henry Carey 
C. C. Frazer-Tytler 
Mary Berri Chapman 
S. T. Coleridge 



Countess of Gifford 

J. Ashby-Sterry 

W. F. Gregory 



PAGE 

5 

163 

89 

172 

159 

43 

85 

121 

144 

18 

142 

65 
84 
41 
67 
96 
10 
68 
96 
^Z 
37 
80 
161 
30 
38 
35 
97 
19 
ZZ 
15 
17 
85 



PAGE 

Love song lo 

Love that availeth . . . Arthur L. Salmon 123 

Love universal 69 

Love unreturned . . . H. C. Beeching 140 

Love without thee . . . Hamilton Aide 99 

Man's love Lord Byron 79 

Me and thee .... Ellice Hopkins 68 

My early love . 92 

My king ......... 62 

My love Haviilton Aide 4 

My queen 7 

No one else is you 39 

Oh, love, if life should be 39 

Old song 149 

One isn't loved every day . . . . .100 

Only for this .... Louisa Jackson 169 

On receiving a white pink . . . . " Viola " 21 

Parting' Gerald Massey 56 

Parting words 180 

Passion and patience . . . Ellen T. Fowler no 

Persian love song . . . Blanche Lindsay 76 

Quits Catherine G. Furley 28 

Regrets 170 

Reminiscence 138 

Renouncement Alice- Meynell 70 

Roses . .173 

XV 



Rose song 
Rue 



PAGE 

William Saiuyer 13 
. . . . 158 



Separation Anne Reeve Aldrich 160 

Shadows C. E. Meetkerke 124 

She is so pretty Ethel Grey 4 

She loves and loves forever Thomas Love Peacock 63 

Since we parted .... Owen Meredith 10 

Singing of you 9 

Somewhere or other . . C. G. Rossetti (adapted) 66 

Song Owen Meredith 57 

Song Lord Lytton 44 

Sonnet 59 

Strangers yet .... Lord Houghton 113 

Sweetheart .... Augustus Greville ' 8 

Sweetheart ..... Hamilton Aide 73 

Sweetheart, good-by 1 . . . Jenkyn 77 



The awakened .... Elizabeth Hazard 183 

The doubt resolved ....... 22 

The enchantment . . . Thovias Otway 21 

The end of the romance . Winthrop M. Praed 16 

The first kiss .... O-wen Meredith 24 

The last talk 130 

The maid I loved 138 

The match of love 97 

The noon of life Clement Scott 112 

The pain of love . . . Abraham Cowley 150 

The price .... Walter Herries Pollock 125 

The recompense 86 

The rosary .... Robert Cameron Rogers 54 

The secret H. W. Longfellow 127 

The unspoken question ...... 82 

xvi 



The welcome 

This is all . 

Thou canst not forget 

Though oft deceived 

Three kisses of farewell 

Thy witching look 

To 

To . 

To . 

To . 

To love there is no end 

To Mabel . 

To sigh, yet feel no pa 

Too late 

Too late we met 

Trodden flowers 

Two truths . 

Unless 

Unsatisfactory 
Unspoken . 
Until death 



Vale 



Want . 
We love but few 
Were I thy bride 
What it is to love 
What some one said 
When love shall come 
When she comes 
When thou art near 



Thomas Osborne Davis 
Rose Churchill 



Otven htnsly 

Lord Dalling 

Hein?'ich Heine 



Agnes E. Glase 



Richard Jago 

Thofuas Aloore 

Gustave Becquer 

G. H. Westlev 



Helen Hunt Jackson 



PAGE 

i6 
III 

148 
60 
174 
139 
147 
137 
22 

71 
64 



121 

145 
178 

57 



E. B. Browning 50 

E. W. H. Myers 30 

A. St. John Adcock 75 

. . . , 87 



Oiuen Meredith 



Anna. Letitia Barbauld 



G. H Westley 
F. B. Doveion 



150 

140 

74 
II 

97 
32 
117 
80 
29 



PAGE 

When tim^ hath bereft thee 141 

When we are parted . . . Hamilton Aide 79 

When will love come ? . . Pakenham Beatiy 76 

Wilt thou be long? . . . . E. Matheson 78 

Wishes Henry Halloran 6 

Wistful 134 

With no one to love us . . . Edward Ball 78 

With thee .... Mary Cowden Clarke 32 

Why? " Viola'' 73 

Why I love thee . . . Hafuilton Aide 84 

You 60 

You and I Henry Alford 93 

You kissed me .... .... 58 




I 
LOVE'S MORNING 



Oh there's nothing half so sweet in life 
As love'' s young dream. 

Thomas Moore. 



None without hope e'er loved the brightest fair ; 
But Love can hope where Reason would despair. 

Lord Lyttelton. 



Oh Love ! young Love ! bound in thy rosy band, 

Let sage or cynic prattle as he will, 

These hours, ajid these alone, redeem Life''s years of ill. 

Lord Byron. 



? 









%3, ■ .J 



FOR LOVE'S SWEET SAKE 



"I LOVE YOU, DEAR" 



T LOVE you, dear." 



There is no phrase so worn and old 
In all the world, nor one so sweet 
To lover's lips or maiden's ear 
As this refrain, " I love you, dear." 

'' 1 love you, dear." 
There is no change as time goes on ; 
No new words seem to mean so much 
As when they're uttered fondly near, 
In trembling tones, " I love you, dear." 

" I love you, dear." 
No night so dark, no day so long 
But hope brings comfort to the heart. 
If only " some one " standeth near 
To murmur low, " I love you, dear." 
3 



MY LOVE 

MY love's worth all the world to me : 
Her walk to others' dance is light. 
When she comes by, the sun rides high, 
And when she's past, 'tis night ! 

Her gentle voice, that bids " Good day," 
Is music that my soul loves best ; 

Her deep set eyes, her low replies, 
The dreams that haunt my rest. 

Her presence, like fresh morning showers 
Gives to all things refreshing grace ; 

If she but stoop, sweet buds that droop. 
Gaze up into her face. 

That May-day face — where nothing lives 
That is not bright, for long together ; 

Thoughts come and go, like winds that blow 
The clouds in golden weather. 

Life's passing shades have scarcely chill'd 
The gladness of her spirit's light — 

O when she's by, the sun seems high, 
And when she's past, 'tis night ! 

HA3IILTON Aide 



SHE IS SO PRETTY 

SHE is so pretty, the girl I love, 
Her eyes are tender and deep and blue 
As the summer night in the skies above, 
4 



As violets seen through a mist of dew. 
How can I hope then her heart to gain ? 
She is so pretty, and I am so plain ! 

She is so pretty, so fair to see ! 

Scarcely she's counted her nineteenth spring, 
Fresh, and blooming, and young — ah me ! 

Why do I thus her praises sing ? 
Surely from me ^tis a senseless strain. 
She is so pretty, and I am so plain ! 

She is pretty, so sweet and dear 

There^s many a lover who loves her well : 
I may not hope, I can only fear. 

Yet shall I venture my love to tell ? . . . 
Ah ! I have pleaded, and not in vain — 
Though she's so pretty, and Pm so plain. 

From Beranger, by Ethel Grey 



KISSING INDUCEMENTS 

THE clouds that rest on the mountain's breast 
Are kissed by the viewless air ; 
And the western breeze doth kiss the trees 

And woo the flowerets fair. 
And the weeping willows are kissed by the billows. 

And the day-star kisses the sea — 
Then why not, dearest, loveliest, fairest, 
Give a kiss to me ? 

5 



The bright moonbeam doth kiss the stream 

The hill and the peaceful vale, 
And the shady bower, at even's hour, 

Is woo'd by the nightingale. 
And the lily and rose, and each flower that blows 

Are kissed by the roving bee. 
Then why not, dearest, loveliest, fairest, 

Give a kiss to me ? 



WISHES 

I WISH, my sweet, thou wert a rose, 
And I a golden bee, to sip 
The honey dew that doth repose 
In balmy kisses on thy lip. 

I wish thine eyes were violets blue. 

And I a wandering western breeze. 
To press thee with my wings of dew 

And melt them into ecstasies ! 

I wish thou wert a golden curl, 

And I the myrtle-wreath that bound it ; 

I wish thou wert a peerless pearl, 
And I the casket to surround it ! 

I wish thou wert a lucid star, 

And I the atmosphere about thee — 
But if we must be as we are 

Dearest, I cannot live without thee. 

Henry Halloran 
6 



I LOVE THEE 

I LOVE thee ; why, I cannot tell, 
A thousand nameless winning ways 
Around thee weave their magic spell 

And make words poor to speak thy praise. 

I love thee ; not because thine eyes 
Are matched by heaven's celestial blue, 

But in thy trustful look there lies 
The unspoken promise to be true. 

I love thee for some subtle charm 

That seems to draw my heart to thine ; 

Thy voice and look my fears disarm, 
And tell me thou art only mine. 

I love thee ; not for wealth or fame — 
No worldly wish holds thought of thee ; 

And since thy heart reveals the same, 
How bright with hope our lives may be ! 

M. A. Baines 



MY QUEEN 

SHE must be courteous, she must be holy, 
Pure in spirit, that maiden I love ; 
Whether her birth be noble or lowly, 

I care no more than the spirits above. 
And ril give my heart to my lady's keeping, 
And ever her strength on mine shall lean, 
And the stars shall fall and the angels be weeping 
Ere I cease to love her, my Queen, my Queen ! 

From an Old Song 

7 



DANCE SONG 

HOW could I, sweet, have sung another song? 
To you there was but one for me to sing ; 
But one, and ah ! you know it all so long 
That now I fear it seems an idle thing — 
With tireless feet, with tireless feet 
Dance on, dance on ! I love you, sweet. 

How shall I whisper, dear, another word ? 
Do I not hold you, breathing breast to breast ? 
My heart has naught to say yours has not heard. 
Of all Love's speeches, silence is the best — 

I will not fear, I will not fear. 

Dance on, dance on ! I love you, dear. 

F. W. L. Adams 



SWEETHEART 

THERE is a little bird that sings : 
" Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! sweetheart ! " 
I know not what his name may be, 
I only know he pleases me, 
As loud he sings — and thus sings he — 
" Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! sweetheart ! " 

I've heard him sing on soft spring days 

"Sweetheart! sw^eetheart! sweetheart!" 
And when the sky was dark above, 
And wintry winds had stripped the grove, 
He still poured forth his words of love — 
"Sweetheart! sweetheart! sweetheart!" 
8 



And like that bird my heart, too, sings 

" Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! sweetheart ! " 
When heav'n is dark or bright and blue, 
When trees are bare or leaves are new, 
It thus sings on — and sings of you — 
" Sweetheart I sweetheart ! sweetheart ! " 

What need of other words than these : 

" Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! sweetheart ! " 
If I should sing the whole year long, 
My love would not be shown more strong, 
Than by this short and simple song — 
" Sweetheart ! sweetheart ! sweetheart ! " 

Augustus Greville 



SINGING OF YOU 

I'M singing of you when the darkness is falling, 
Falling from heaven and blotting its blue ; 
Singing of you when the night winds are calling. 
Thralling my heart, that is singing of you. 

I'm singing of you when the robins are waking, 
Slaking their thirst in the glistening dew ; 

Singing of you when the May dawn is breaking. 
Taking my thought to you, singing of you. 

I'm singing of you with a song of love, ringing. 
Winging its way to you ; telling you true ; 

Singing of you and the bliss you are bringing, 
Flinging my life to you, singing of you. 

> 9 



y 



SINCE WE PARTED 

SINCE we parted yester eve, 
I do love thee, love, believe. 
Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer, 
One dream deeper, one night stronger, 
One sun surer. — thus much more 
Than I loved thee, love, before. 

Owen Meredith 

LOVE SONG 

TO look for thee — sigh for thee — cry for thee, 
Under my breath ; 
To clasp but a shade where thy head hath laid, 
It is death. 

To long for thee — yearn for thee — burn for thee- 

Sorrow and strife ! — 
But to have thee — and hold thee — and fold thee- 

It is life — it is life ! 



LOVE AND PITY 

LOVE came a beggar to her gate, 
The night was drear, the hour was late. 
And through the gloom she heard his moan 
Where at the gate he stood alone. 

His rounded form in rags was clad, 
His weeping eyes were wan and sad; 
But hid beneath his garb of woe 
He bore his arrows and his bow. 

iO 



She wept to see the beggar weep, 
She bade him in her bosom sleep, 
His wretched pHght allayed her fears, 
She kissed and bathed him with her tears. 

The merry eyes began to glow. 
The rosy hand essayed the bow. 
The rough disguise was cast aside. 
And laughing Love for mercy cried. 

Love came a beggar to her gate, 

More wisely than with pomp and state ; 

For who hath woman's pity won 

May count love's siege and battle done. 

WERE I THY BRIDE 

WERE I thy bride, 
Then all the world beside 
Were not too wide 

To hold my wealth of love — 
Were I thy bride ! 
Upon thy breast 
My loving head would rest 
As in her nest 

The tender turtle-dove — 
Were I thy bride ! 

This heart of mine 

Would be one heart with thine, 

And in that shrine 

Our happiness would dwell — 
Were I thy bride ! , 
II 



And all day long 

Our lives should be a song ; 

No grief, no wrong 

Should make my heart rebel 
Were I thy bride ! 

The rose's sigh 

Were as a carrion's cry 

To lullaby 

Such as rd sing to thee 
Were I thy bride ! 
A feather's press 
Were leaden heaviness 
To my caress — 

Ah, love, how sweet 'twould be 
Were I thy bride ! 



Old Song 



AT THE DANCE 



MY queen is tired and craves surcease 
Of twanging string and clamorous brass ; 
I lean against the mantelpiece, 
And watch her in the glass. 

One whom I see not where I stand 
Fans her and talks in whispers low ; 

Her loose locks flutter as his hand 
Moves lightly to and fro. 

He begs a flower ; her finger-tips 

Stray round a rose half veiled in lace ; 

She grants the boon with smiling lips, 
Her clear eyes read his face. 

12 



I cannot look, my sight grows dim-r- 

While Fate allots unequally, 
The living woman's self to him, 

The mirrored form to me. 

Augusta de Gruchy 



ROSE SONG 

SUNNY breath of roses, 
Roses white and red, 
Rosy bud and rose leaf 

From the blossom shed ! 
Goes my darling flying 

All the garden through. 
Laughing she eludes me. 
Laughing I pursue. 

Now to pluck the rosebud. 

Now to pluck the rose, 
(Hand a sweeter blossom) 

Stopping as she goes : 
What but this contents her. 

Laughing in her flight. 
Pelting with red roses, 

Pelting with the white. 

Roses round me flying, 

Roses in my hair, 
I to snatch them trying, 

Darling, have a care I 
13 



Lips are so like flowers 

I might snatch at those, 
Redder than the rose leaves, 

Sweeter than the rose. 

William Sawyer 

A VALENTINE 

IF I were a leaf on a tree, 
And you were the wind from the west ; 
Would you waft me away in your strong embrace, 
And pillow my head on your breast ? 

If you were the sun in his strength, 

And I were a morsel of dew ; 
Would you lift me away from my low estate, 

And carry me nearer you ? 

If you were the King among men. 

And only my love were mine. 
Would you single me out from all maidens on earth. 

To choose me your Valentine ? 

Mary T. Reiley 

A LOVE TEST 

SWEET, do you ask me if you love or no? 
Soon will your answers to my questions show : 
If in your cheeks hot blushes come and go 
Like rose leaves shaken on new-fallen snow ; 
If tender sorrows in your heart arise 
And sudden teardrops tremble in your eyes ; 
If from my presence you would sigh to part, 
Believe me, darling, I have touched your heart. 
14 



MBKIK 



/. X 




Love's roses 



If when I speak your blue-veined eyelids sink 

And veil the thoughts you scarcely dare to think ; 

If when I greet you, hardly you reply, 

And when we part, but breathe a faint " Good-by ! '" 

If your sweet face to mine you cannot raise. 

Yet fear not so to meet another's gaze ; 

If all these things to make you glad combine, 

Believe me, darling, that your heart is mine. 

From the Germajt of Carl Herloszsohn 



LOVE'S PUNISHMENTS 

OH, if my love offended me 
And we had words together. 
To show her I would master be, 
rd whip her with a feather ! 

If then she, like a naughty girl. 

Would tyranny declare it, 
I'd give my love a cross of pearl 

And make her always bear it ! 

If still she tried to sulk and sigh 

And throw away my posies, 
I'd catch my darling on the sly 

And smother her with roses ! 

And if she dared her lips to pout. 

Like many pert young misses, 

I'd wind my arm her waist about 

And punish her — with kisses. 

J. Ashby-Sterry 
15 



THE END OF THE ROMANCE 

OUR love was like most other loves ; 
A little glow, a little shiver, 
A rosebud, and a pair of gloves, 

And " Fly not yet " — upon the river ; 
Some jealousy of some one's heir, 

Some talk of dying broken-hearted, 
A miniature, a lock of hair. 

The usual vows, — and then we parted. 

We parted ; months and years rolled by ; 

We met again four summers after ; 
Our parting was all sob and sigh ; 

Our meeting was all mirth and laughter : 
For in my heart's most secret cell 

There had been many other lodgers ; 
And she was not the ballroom's belle, 

But only — Mrs. Something Rogers. 

WiNTHROP M. Praed 



THE WELCOME 

COME in the evening, or come in the morning,— 
Come when youVe looked for, or come without 
warning, — 
Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you. 
And the oftener you come here the more Til adore you! 
Thomas Osborne Davis 
i6 



LOVERS ROSES 

SIR RONALD'S sword was brave and keen, 
In the sunlight flashing bright ; 
But Oh ! so deathly grim, I ween, 
I could not bear the sight. 

Sir Ronald's heart was true and leal. 

So manly, high, and bold ; 
But ah ! full like his gleaming steel 

All stern it seemed and cold. 

And so I took the roses fair, 

And wreathed the ghastly blade ; 
All peacefully they nestled there, 

No more was I afraid. 

And lo ! the knight by some sweet art. 
Grew warm toward me and kind — 

I little knew that 'round his heart 
The flowers of love I twined. 

W. F. Gregory 




^-.w 



■7 



LONG YEARS AGO 

ALL for a pretty girlish face, 
Two cheeks of rosy hue. 
Two laughing eyes of vermeil tint 
And eyes of heaven's blue. 

All for a little dimpled chin, 
A round throat snowy fair, 

A darling mouth to dream upon 
And glorious golden hair. 

All for a tender cooing voice, 
And gentle fluttering sighs ; 

All for the promise made to me 
By story-telling eyes. 

All for that pretty girlish face, 
For a hand as white as snow, 

I dreamed a foolish dream of love 
Long, long years ago. 



A BIRTHDAY GREETING 

WHAT shall I give you. sweet, to-day 
A wreath to deck your sunny hair 
A wreath of roses, fresh and fair. 
Breathing the pure and scented air 
Of balmy May ? 

No — ril not give you that to-day, 
For roses, dear, will fade away ! 
i8 



I 



What shall I give you, sweet, to-day — 

A costly robe of silk brocade. 

By lovely fingers deftly made 

That you might fitly be arrayed 
To wield your sway ? 
No — ril not give you that to-day. 
For silk, dear heart, will wear away ! 

What shall I give you, sweet, to-day — ■ 

A jewelled chaplet, or a ring 

Worthy the ransom of a king, 

A coronet — some trifling thing 
For hours of play ? 
No — ril not give you gems to-day. 
For gems are ofttimes stol'n away ! 

What shall I give you, sweet, to-day. 

That shall with you through strife and stress. 
Through bitter failure, sweet success. 
Through mirth, through dread unhappiness 

Forever stay ? 

Sweet, at your feet I lay to-day 

My love — for that will last alway ! 

Henry Edlin 

LOVERS GIFTS 

GAVE my love a fan before she knew 
I loved her more than dared my tongue impart 



She took it with a smile ; but saw not through 

Mine eyes that I had given her first my heart. 
O fan, how envied I the happy air 
Thou brought'st a-wooing to that face. so fair ! 



I gave her flowers — Nature's living gems ; 

The likest thing on earth to her I've known ! 
All beauty, grace, and sweetness ; diadems 

To bind her brows, and posies for her zone. 

happy flowers, what had I given to lie. 
Like ye, on that fair breast, though but to die ! 

1 gave my love a ring — no costly prize ; 

Naught but a little simple hoop of gold. 
She placed it on her finger with sweet sighs. 

And sweeter looks, that made my tongue more 
bold. 
" O happy ring upon that hand to shine ! 

lovely lady, would that hand were mine ! " 

My love gave me — a kiss. O wanton air, 
I envy thee no more ! O luckless flowers, 

1 breathe fresh life upon that bosom fair. 
Where ye but perish in a few short hours. 

O ring, a finger thou dost clasp alone ! 

My arms encircle all — for she is all mine own ! 




__ -,-:Ja^-:j;^*^ v. 



ON RECEIVING A WHITE PINK 

DEAR little fair and fragrant flower, 
A double sweetness lingers 
Around thy smooth and slender stem 

Because my darling's fingers 
Have culled thee from the parent stem, 

Because his lips have pressed thee, 
And well I know ere thou wert sent 
With words of love he blessed thee. 

Sweet blossom, on thy snowy leaves. 

And with thy fragrance blending, 
A message comes of tender love. 

All other love transcending ; 
And as I kiss each tiny bud, 

(For every leaf I treasure) 
I wonder if my darling knows 

He gave me such a pleasure. 



Viola 



I 



THE ENCHANTMENT 

DID but look and love awhile, 
'Twas but for one half-hour ; 



Then to resist I had no will,, 
And now I have no power. 

To sigh and wish is all my ease, — 
Sighs which do heat impart, 

Enough to melt the coldest ice, 
Yet cannot warm your heart. . 

21 



O would your pity give my heart 

One corner of your breast, 
'Twould learn of yours the winning art 

And quickly steal the rest. 

Thomas Otway 



TO 

WARM summer dwells upon thy cheeks 
And in thy dancing eyes. 
But, fair one, in thy little heart 
Cold, frosty winter lies. 

Yet these, I think, as 3'ears grow on 

Will play a different part ; 
Then winter on thy cheeks shall be 

And summer in thy heart. 

Heixrich Heine 



THE DOUBT RESOLVED 

TO go or stay, I scarcely knew. 
Perplexed by mandates twain. 
For while my love pronounced " Adieu 

Her aspect said " Remain." 
'Twixt what I saw and what I heard 

My judgment wavered quite, — 
Whether she meant by glance or word 
To part us or unite. 
22 



But now each lover I advise, 

Like me to make his choice ; 
In duty to his lady's eyes, 

To disregard her voice. 
Such orbs with kinder light are filled 

The nearer we adore, 
And pouting lips, if bravely stilled, 

Will banish us no more. 



A HEART FOR EVERY ONE 

OH, there's a heart for every one, 
If every one could find it ; 
Then up and seek ere youth is gone. 

Whatever the toil, ne'er mind it ; 
For if you chance to meet at last 
With that one heart intended 
To be a blessing unsurpassed. 

Till life itself is ended. 
How would you prize the labor done. 

How grieve if you resigned it ; 
For there's a heart for every one 
If every one could find it ! 

Charles Swain 




THE FIRST KISS 

O HAPPY hush of heart to heart ! 
O moment molten through with bliss ! 
O Love, delaying long to part 

That first, fast, individual kiss ! 
Whereon two lives on glowing lips 

Hang claspt, each feeling fold in fold, 
Like daisies closed with crimson tips. 
That sleep about a heart of gold. 

Owen Meredith 

HALF-HEARTED 

IF I could love thee, Love, a little more, 
If thy fair love outlived the brief sweet rose — 
If in my golden field were all thy store. 

And all my joy within thy garden close, — 
Then would I pray my heart to be full fond 
Forever and a little bit beyond. 

If daffodil and primrose were not frail. 
If snowdrop died not ere the dying day — 

If I were true as Daphnis in the tale, 

And thou could'st love as Juliet in the play, — 

Then would I teach my heart to be full fond 

Forever and a little bit beyond. 

But since I fear I am but wayward true. 

And wayward false, fair love, thou seem^st to be - 
Since I some day must sigh for something new 

And each day thou for life's monotony, — 
Prithee, stay here ere yet we grow too fond, 
And let me pass a little bit beyond. 

Fro7n Macmillan 
24 



COMEDY 

THEY parted, with clasps of hand, 
And kisses, and burning tears. 
They met in a foreign land, 
After some twenty years : 

Met as acquaintances meet, 

Smilingly, tranquil-eyed — 
Not even the least little beat 

Of the heart upon either side I 

They chatted of this and that, 
The nothings that make up life ; 

She in a Gainsborough hat. 
And he in black for his wife. 

Ah, what a comedy this ! 

Neither was hurt, it appears : 
Yet once she had leaned to his kiss, 

And once he had known her tears ! 

Thomas Bailey Aldrich 



HALF-WAY IN LOVE 

YOU have come then ; how very clever ! 
I thought you would scarcely try ; 
I was doubtful myself — however. 
You have come, and so have L 

How cool it is here, and pretty ! 

You are vexed ; Fm afraid I'm late ; 
YouVe been waiting — Oh, what a pity ! 

And its almost half-past eight. 

25 



So it is ; I can hear it striking 
Out there in the gray church tower, 

Why, I wonder at your liking 
To wait for me half an hour. 

I am sorry ; what have you been doing 
All the while down here by the pool ? 

Do you hear that wild dove cooing ? 
How nice it is here, and cool ! 

How that elder piles and masses 
Her great blooms snowy-sweet ; 

Do you see through the serried grasses 
The forget-me-nots at your feet ? 

And the fringe of flags that encloses 
The water ; and how the place 

Is alive with pink dog-roses 
Soft colored like your face ? 

You like them ? — shall I pick one 
For a badge and coin of June ? 

They are lovely, but they prick one 
And they always fade so soon. 

Here's a rose. I think love like this is, 
That buds between two sighs, 

And flowers between two kisses. 
And when it is gathered dies. 



That love should fade in one's sight 
It were better surely to fling love 
Off while the bloom is bright. 
26 



The frail life will not linger, 

Best throw the rose away. 
Though the thorns having scratched one's finger 

Will hurt for half a day. 

What, tears ? — you will keep it and see it 

Fade and its petals fall ? — 
If you will — why, Amen, so be it : 

You may be right, after all. 

J. B. B. Nichols 



AN INTERLUDE 

YOU taught me all that Love could be, 
You filled my life with joy untold ; 
Could I give less than all to thee, 
Or offer only dross for gold.'* 

I brought my heart and laid it low, 
For lifelong service at your feet ; 

The love of all my days I owe 

To one who made my life so sweet. 

But then there came another day, 
The rhythm of the poem broke ; 

We said good-by, you went away ; 
The dream had ended — I awoke. 

Ah, still within my heart you reign 
And there none other shall intrude ; 

But you are fancy-free again 
And I was but — an Interlude.. 
27 



QUITS 

INDEED, they have not grieved me sore, 
Your faithlessness and your deceit ; 
The truth is, I was troubled more 

How I should make a good retreat : 
Another way my heart now tends ; 
We can cry quits, and be good friends. 

I found you far more lovable, 

Because your fickleness I saw, 
For I myself am changeable 

And like, you know, to like doth draw : 
Thus neither needs to nlake amends ; 
We can cry quits, and be good friends. 

When I was monarch of your heart, 
My heart from you did never range ; 

But from my vassal did I part. 

When you your lady-love did change : 

No penalty the change attends ; 

We can cry quits, and be good friends. 

Farewell ! We'll meet again some day, 
And all our fortunes we'll relate ; 

Of love lef s have no more to say, 
'Tis clear we're not each other's fate. 

Our game in pleasant fashion ends ; 

We can cry quits, and be good friends. 

Catherine Grant Furley 



28 



WHEN THOU ART NEAR 

WHEN thou art near, the rose doth seem less fair, 
The lily pale is shorn of half its grace, 
I only see the glory of thy hair, 

I only know the beauty of thy face. 
Thy presence gladdens like the vernal year, 
And it is always May when thou art near. 

F. B. DOVETON 



IF ONLY I MIGHT WRITE 

MY dear, if only I might write, 
How many tender things Pd say — 
The place seems empty of delight 

Since you have gone so far away ; 
rd tell you how I oft recall 

Those fair, sweet pictures once we drew, 
rd tell you how I miss them all 
If only I might write to you. 

If only I might write to you 

rd tell you how reverse of gay. 
How dull each place and person seems. 

And how I curse the lagging day 
And bless night only for its dreams — 

I'd tell you how your voice still rings 
Within my memory clear and true, 

rd tell you — oh ! a heap of things 
If only I might write to you. 
29 



LOVERS A RIDDLE 

THE flame of love assuages, 
When once it is revealed 
But fiercer still it rages 

The more it is concealed. 
Consenting makes it colder ; 
When met it will retreat : 
Repulses make it bolder, 



And dangers make it sweet. 



H 



Henry Carey 



UNSATISFACTORY 

AVE other lovers — say, my love, — 
Loved thus before to-day ? " — 
" They may have, yes ! they may, 7ny love ; 
Not long ago they may.'''' 



'' But though they w^orshipped thee, my love, 
Thy maiden heart was free ? " 

" DoiCt ask too much of me, my love ; 

Don't ask too micch of me ! " 

" Yet now 'tis you and I, my love, 
Love''s wings no more will fly ? " 

^' If love conld 7iever die, my love 

Our love should never die.'''' 

" For shame ! and is this so. my love, 
And Love and I must go ? "' — 

" Indeed I do not know, my love, 

My life, I do not know.'''' 
30 



f 



" You will, you must be true, my love, 
Nor look, nor love anew ! '' — 

" / 7/ see what I can do, my love, 

fll see what I can doy 

Frederick W. H. Myers 



HER EYES 

WHEN the little stars are shining 
In the azure skies 
They are like the lights reclining 

In my darling's eyes ; 
They are jealous and are keeping 

All the day from sight, 
But they venture when she's sleeping 
To adorn the night. 

" Viola 



LOVE THEE 

I LOVE thee— I love thee ! 
'Tis all that I can say ; 
It is my vision in the night, 
My dreaming in the day ; 
The very echo of my heart, 
The blessing when I pray : 
I love thee — I love thee ! 
Is all that I can say. 

Thomas Hood 
31 



WITH THEE 

WITH thee my thoughts are calm and sweet, 
Without thee they are wild and sad ; 
With thee my life is all complete, 
Without thee it is stormy — mad. 
Be true to me, my love, be true ! 
I'm nothing, if I have not you. 

With thee my heart is aye at rest. 
Without thee it is tempest-tost ; 
With thee my life is fully blest, 

Without thee I am wrecked and lost. 
Be true to me, my love, be true ! 
I'm nothing if I have not you. 

Mary Cowden Clarke 



WHAT SOME ONE SAID 

WHY should I not look happy. 
The world is all so bright ? 
For Some One said he loved me ; 
He told me so last night. 

Such words of love he whispered, 

I felt my blushes rise ; 
But half (he said) he told not, 

The rest was in his eyes. 

He said to watch and guard me 
Would be his tenderest care ; 

If 1 am but beside him, 
Joy will be everywhere. 
32 



I 



If love will make life lovely 
Mine will be very sweet, 

His love will strew with flowers 
The path beneath my feet. 

Then should I not be happy, 
The world is all so bright? 

For Some One said he loved me ; 
He told me so last night. 



LOVE'S LANGUAGE 

LOVE has a language that mocks at rules, 
A foolish tongue that is all his own ; 
Its words have values unknown to schools — 

Dear for the sake of a look or a tone. 
Learned it is not, nor is it wise 

Yet it has purport earnest and true, 
Full of such playful metonymies! 

Figures — known to but Love and two ; 
Gay ellipses — that leave to the guess 

Tender half meanings ; metaphor bold. 
Fond hyperbole — saying far less 

Than the kind eyes tell, or the heart doth hold 
Strange pet-names" that are nouns unknown. 

Epithets — mocking the love-charmed ears, 
Verbs — that have roots in the heart alone. 

Jests — that fill fond eyes with tears. 

Countess of Gifford 



33 



DO I LOVE THEE 

DO I love thee? Ask the bee 
If she loves the flowery lea, 
Where the honeysuckle blows 
And the fragrant clover grows. 
As she answers, ves or no, 



Do I love thee? Ask the bird 
When her matin song is heard, 
If she loves the sky so fair. 
Fleecy cloud and liquid air. 
As she answers, yes or no. 



Do I love thee? Ask the flower 
If she loves the vernal shower, 
Or the kisses of the sun, 
Or the dew when day is done. 

As she answers, yes or no. 

Darling, take my answer so. 

John Godfrey Saxe 



IF THE HEART BE TRUE 

ALL things can never go badly wrong, 
If the heart be true and the love be strong ; 
For the mist, if it comes, and the weeping rain 
Will be changed by love into sunshine again. 

George MacDonald 

34 



A 



LOVE'S COURSE 



FLIGHT of fancy like a gleam 
Of sunlight over silken hair — 



A chord of subtle sympathy 

That stirs emotions pure as prayer, — 

An aspiration and a joy 

That makes the lowliest a king, — 

A kiss — and all the universe 

Encircled by a wedding ring! 

Mary Berri Chapman 



I WANT YOU 

I WANT you — Oh! I want you, now and ever! 
Had I a million tongues, they could but cry 
" I want you." All the hunger of my life 
Speaks in these words. ... 



It is a fearful thing 

To love as I love thee ; to feel the world — 
The bright, the beautiful, joy-giving world — 
A blank without thee. 



Beloved, at thy touch the entire bliss 

Of being floods me ; in my heart straightway 

Songs rise and gush and murmur without end. 



35 



A LOVE THOUGHT * 

TF thou wert only, love, a tiny flower, 

-^ And I a butterfly with gaudy wings, i 

Flitting to changing scenes each changing hour. 

Careless of aught save that which pleasure brings — 
Not even I could leave the lowliest glade 
That held thy loveliness within its shade. 

m 

If thou wert but a streamlet in the vale, 

And I a sailor on a stormy sea. 
Flying through whirling foam beneath the gale, 

Chartless in all that wild immensity — 
Thy murmuring voice would echo in my soul 
Through howling storm or crashing thunder-roll. 

If, darling, thou wert but a far-off" star, 

And I a weary wanderer o'er the plain, 
Unwitting of celestial worlds afar. 

And knowing naught of all the shining train — 
My glance would single out thy ray serene, 
Though blazing suns and planets rolled between. 



Yet, dear one, thou art these to me and more : 
My flower whose radiance passeth all decay ; 

My streamlet of sweet thoughts in endless store ; 
My star to guide my steps to perfect day; 

My hope in earth's dark dungeon of despair ; 

My refuge 'mid life's weary noonday glare. 

H. Ernest Nichol 



36 



I 



LOVE ME IF I LIVE 

LOVE me if I live ; 
Love me if I die ; 
What to me is life or death, 
So that thou be nigh ? 

Once I loved thee rich, 
Now I love thee poor ; 
Ah ! what is there I could not 
For thy sake endure ? 

Kiss me for my love ! 
Pay me for thy pain! 
Come ! and murmur in my ear 
How thou lov'st, again. 

"Barry Cornwall" 



I LOVE THEE 

I LOVE thee as the flowVets fair 
Love sunbeams on the lea ; 
I love thee as the birds of air 

Love dawning spring to see ; 
I love thee as the rippling stream 

Loves wending to the shore ; 
I love thee when awake, a-dream, 
Oh could I love thee more. 

John Oxenford 



37 



LOVERS COLORS 

NOT violets I gave my love. 
That in their life are sweet and rare, 
And deep in color, as the heart 

Whose every thought of her is prayer ; 



)■) 



For violets grow pale and d 

And lose the semblance of her eye. 

No lily buds I gave my love, 

Though she is white and pure as they ; 
For they are cold to smell and touch. 

And blossom but a single day ; 
And pressed by love, in love's own page, 
They yellow into early age. 



But cyclamen I chose to give. 

Whose pale white blossom at the tips 
(All else as driven snow) are pink. 

And mind me of her perfect lips ; 
Still, till this flower is kept and old 
Its worth to love is yet untold. 

Old, kept, and kissed, it does not lose 
As other flowers the hues they wear; 

Love is triumphant, and this bloom 
Will never whiten from despair ; 

Rather it deepens as it lies. 

This flower that purples when it dies. 



38 



So shall my love, as years roll by. 

Take kingly colors for its own ; 
Sole master of her vanquished heart, 

Am I not master of a throne ? 
Crushed by no foot, nor cast away, 
My purple love shall rule the day. 

C. C. Frazer-Tytler 



O LOVE, IF LIFE SHOULD BE 

OLOVE, if life should be 
Merely the golden key 
To love more vast — 
If there should be a place 
Where spirits can embrace 
And kisses last. 



O love ! O fire ! once he drew 

With one long kiss my whole soul through 

My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. 



NO ONE ELSE IS YOU 

SO many are more beautiful ? 
Sweetheart, that may be true ! 
So many are much better ? — yes. 
But no one else is " you.'' 
39 



I THINK OF THEE 

I THINK of thee 
When nightingales' 
Sweet songs pervade 
The leafy glade — 
When are thy thoughts of me? 

I think of thee 

Where twihght folds 

Her evening wings 

By shady springs — 
Where are thy thoughts of me ? 

I think of thee 

With strange, sweet pain, 

With longing fear, 

With burning tear — 
How are thy thoughts of me? 

From the German of Matthisso7i 




40 



LOVE 

LOVE is not made of kisses, or of sighs, 
Of clinging hands, or of the sorceries 
And subtle witchcraft of alluring eyes. 

Love is not made of broken whispers ; no! 

Nor of the blushing cheek, whose answering glow 

Tells that the ear has heard the accents low. 

Love is not made of tears, nor yet of smiles ; 
Of quivering lips, or of enticing wiles ; 
Love is not tempted ; he himself beguiles. 

This is Love's language, but this is not Love. 

If we know aught of Love, now shall we dare 

To say that this is Love, when well aware 

That these are common things, and Love is rare. 



In course united, so, of soul to soul, 
Love is the union into one sweet whole. 

As molten metals mingle ; as a chord 
Swells sweet in harmony; when Love is lord, 
Two hearts are one, as letters form one word. 

One heart, one mind, one soul, and one desire, 

A kindred fancy, and a sister fire 

Of thought and passion ; these can Love inspire. 

This makes a heaven of earth ; for this is Love. 
41 



BECAUSE YOU LOVE ME, DEAR 

DEAR heart, life's storms around us beat. 
The snares of sin around us meet, 
But love has made the bitter sweet, 

And seems to banish fear ; 
And though my way is fraught with pain, 
A wondrous courage I maintain, 
Because you love me, dear. 

Not much I heed cruel scandal's sting. 
But if, perchance, distress it bring, 
Your tender care is everything, 

And brighter hopes appear ; 
And when the hours of day have flown 
You more and more become my own. 

Because you love me, dear. 

And when for tears I cannot see. 
When tempted, dear, I look to thee, 
Then all the sinful shadows flee 

And soon the sky grows clear — 
Oh precious love, oh priceless boon. 
Our longing souls may now commune, 

Because you love me, dear. 

"Viola" 

EPIGRAM 

WHEN first my true love crown'd me with her smile, 
Methought that Heaven encircled me the while! 
When first my true love to mine arms was given, 
Ah, then methought that I encircled Heaven. 

Gerald Massev 
42 



LIFE WITHOUT LOVE 

LIFE without love is like 
Day without sunshine, 
Roses bereft of 

Sweet nature's perfume ; 
Love is the guide mark 
To those who are weary 
Of waiting and watching 
In darkness and gloom. 

Love to the heart is like 
Dewdrops to violets 
Left on the dust-ridden 

Roadside to die ; 
Love leads the way 
To our highest endeavors, 
Lightens and lessens 

The pain of each sigh. 

Life without love 

Is like spring without flowers, 

Brook streams that move not 

Or star-bereft sky. 
Love creates efforts 
Most worthy and noble. 
Prompts us to live 

And resigns us to die. 




SONG 

WHEN stars are in the quiet skies, 
Then most I pine for thee ; 
Bend on me then thy tender eyes 

As stars look on the sea ! 
For thoughts, Uke waves that glide by night. 

Are stillest when they shine. 
Mine earthly love lies hushed in light 
Beneath the heaven of thine. 

Lord Lytton 



^1 ^^---w» ^ V 



m ^- ^ 






44 



II 
LOVE'S NOONTIDE 



Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, 
And men belozu, and saints above. 
For love is heaven, and heaven is love. 

Sir Walter Scott 

Mysterious love, uncertain treasure. 
Hast thou more of pain or pleasure ? 
Endless tornients dwell about thee : 
Yet who would live and live without thee ! 
Joseph Addison 

Put thou thy trtist in those who love ; 
In no false heart ?nay love abide. 




FOR LOVE'S SWEET SAKE 

BECAUSE you have no golden hoard, 
Or broad and fertile lands to show, 
Or wealth in glittering caskets stored, 
You fear to whisper — what I know. 
You think Hwould be a grievous wrong 
Me from my smoother paths to take, 
Nor understand how brave and strong 
My heart could be for love's sweet sake. 

Because you are a man, you seek 

To hide the tender pain you feel ; 
And I, a woman, should not speak 

One word your secret wound to heal ; 
Yet, knowing well that each for each 

Life's fullest harmonies could wake, 
I fain would place within your reach 

The gift of love for love's sweet sake. 
49 



Because the ways you tread are rough, 

Shall we two always stand apart ? 
Nay, let me own 'twould be enough 

To share your weal and woe, dear heart ! 
If you must bear a daily cross, 

Why, I will half the burden take ; 
And what you choose to call my loss, 

Count truest gain for love's sweet sake. 

E. Matheson 



UNLESS 

UNLESS you can think when the song is done, 
No other is soft in the rhythm ; 
Unless you can feel, when left by One, 

That all men else go with him ; 
Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath. 

That your beauty itself wants proving, 
Unless you can swear, '• For life, for death!" — 
Oh, fear to call it loving ! 

Unless you can muse in the crowd all day, 

On the absent face that fixed you ; 
Unless you can love, as the angels may 

With the breadth of heaven betwixt you ; 
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast 

Through behooving and unbehooving. 
Unless you can die when the dream is past 

Oh, never call it loving. 

Mrs. E. B. Browning 
50 



HOW LOVE COMES 



LIKE Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought. 
Love gives itself, but is not bought ; 
Nor voice, nor sound betrays 
Its deep, impassioned gaze. 

It comes, — the beautiful, the free 
Tlie crown of all humanity, — 

In silence and alone 

To seek the elected one. 

It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep 
Are Life's oblivion, the SouPs sleep. 

And kisses the closed eyes 

Of him, who slumbering lies. 

O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes! 
O drooping souls whose destinies 

Are fraught with fear and pain, 

Ye shall be loved again! 

No one is so accursed by fate, 
No one so utterly desolate. 

But some heart, though unknown 

Responds unto his own. 

Responds, — as if with unseen wings 
An angel touched its quivering strings 
And whispers, in its song, 
"Where hast thou stayed so long ? " 

H. W. Longfellow 
51 



A YEAR AGO 

\ YEAR ago, a year ago, 
-'-"^ I thought my heart was cold and still, 
That love it never more could know, 

That withering time and sorrow's chill 
Had frozen all its earlier glow, — 
A year ago, a year ago, 
I said, " I ne'er shall love again ; " 
But ah ! I had not s^en thee^ then. 

A year ago, a year ago, 

My soul was wrapt in grief and gloom, 
And sighs would swell and tears would flow 

As, bending o'er the lost one's tomb 
I thought of her who slept below, — 
A year ago, a year ago, 
I felt I ne'er could love again ; 
But ah! I had not known thee^ then. 

A year ago, a year ago, 

All vain were beauty's witching wiles. 
And eye of light, and breast of snow, 

And raven tress, and lip of smiles, — 
They could not chase the rooted woe, 
A year ago, a year ago, 
I never wished to love again 
But ah! I had not kissed thee, then. 

Lord Strangford 



52 



ABSENT, YET PRESENT 

AS the flight of a river 
That flows to the sea, 
My soul rushes ever 
In tumult to thee. 

A twofold existence 
I am where thou art ; 

My heart in the distance 
Beats close to thy heart. 

Look up, I am near thee, 
I gaze on thy face ; 

I see thee ; I hear thee ; 
I feel thine embrace. 



Oh, all that I care for, 

And all that I know, 
Is that without wherefore, 

I worship thee so. 

As through the stone breaketh 

A tree to the ray. 
As a dreamer forsaketh 

The grief of the day, 

My soul in its fever 

Escapes unto thee ; 
O dream to the griever, 

O light to the tree! 
53 



I 



A twofold existence 

I am where thou art ; 
Hark, hear in the distance 

The beat of my heart! 

Lord Lytton 

THE ROSARY 

THE hours I spent with thee, dear heart, 
Are as a string of pearls to me ; n 

I count them over, every one apart. 
My rosary. 

Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer. 

To still a heart in absence wrung ; 
I tell each bead until the end, and there 
A cross is hung. 

Oh, memories that bless — and burn! 
Oh, barren gain — and bitter loss ! 
I kiss each bead and strive at last to learn. 
To kiss the cross, 
Sweetheart, 

To kiss the cross. 

Robert Cameron Rogers 



A WOMAN'S QUESTION 

BEFORE I trust my fate to thee, 
Or place my hand in thine, 
Before I let thy future give 

Color and form to mine, — 
Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night, 
for me. 

54 



I break all slighter bonds, nor feel 

One shadow of regret : 
Is there one link within the past 

That holds thy spirit yet ? 
Or is thy faith as clear and free as that which I can 
pledge to thee ? 

Does there within thy dimmest dreams 

A possible future shine, 
Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe 

Untouched, unshared by mine? 
If so, at any pain or cost, O tell me before all is 
lost! 

Look deeper still. If thou canst feel 

Within thy inmost soul 
That thou hast kept a portion back. 

While I have staked the whole. 
Let no false pity spare the blow, but, in true mercy, 
tell me so. 

Is there within thy heart a need 

That mine cannot fulfil ? 
One chord that any other hand 

Could better wake or still ? 
Speak now, lest at some future day, my whole life 
wither and decay. 

Lives there, within thy nature hid, 

The demon-spirit. Change, 
Shedding a passing glory still, 

On all things new and strange? 
It may not by thy fault alone, but shield my heart 
against thy own. 

55 



Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day, 

And answer to my claim 
That fate, and that to-day's mistake, 

Not thou, had been to blame? 
Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou — O, 
surely thou wilt warn me now! 

Adelaide Anne Procter 



PARTING 

TOO fair, I may not call thee mine. 
Too dear, I may not see 
Those eyes with bridal beacons shine ; 

Yet, darling, keep for me — 
Empty and hushed, and safe apart — 
One little corner of thy heart. 

Thou wilt be happy, dear ! and bless 

Thee, happy may'st thou be. 
I would not make thy pleasure less ; 

Yet, darling, keep for we — 
My life to light, my lot to leaven — 

One little corner of thy Heaven. 

Good-by, dear heart ! I go to dwell 

A weary way from thee ; 
Our first kiss is our last farewell. 

Yet, darling, keep for me — 
Who wander outside in the night — 
One little corner of thy light. 

Gerald Massey 
56 



TWO TRUTHS 



D 



^ARLING," he said, " I never meant 
To hurt you ; " and his eyes were wet. 
I would not hurt you for the world ; 
Am I to blame if I forget ? " 



" Forgive my fooHsh tears! " she cried, 
" Forgive ! I knew that it was not 

Because you meant to hurt me, Sweet, ~ 
I knew it was that you forgot! " 



But all the same, deep in her heart 

Rankled this thought, and rankles yet : 

When love is at its best, one loves 
So much that he cannot forget. 

Helen Hunt Jackson 

Copyright, i8jj, by Roberts Bros. 



SONG 

WE must love, and unlove, and, it may be, 
Live into and out of anon 
Lovetimes no few in a lifetime, 

Ere lifetime and lovetime be one. 
For to love it is hard, and His harder 

Perchance to be loved again. 
But if living be not loving 
Then living is all in vain. 

Owen Meredith 
57 



YOU KISSED ME 

YOU kissed me! My head had drooped low on your 
breast, 
With a feeling of shelter and infinite rest ; 
And a holy emotion my tongue dared not speak 
Flashed up in a flame from my heart to my cheek. 
Your arms held me fast. Oh, your arms were so bold! 
Heart beat against heart in their passionate fold ; 
Your glances seemed drawing my soul through my eyes 
As the sun draws the mist from the seas to the skies ; 
And your lips clung to mine till I prayed in my bliss, 
They might never unclasp from that rapturous kiss. 

You kissed me ! My heart and my breath and my will, 

In delicious joy for the moment stood still ; 

Life had for me then no temptations, no charms. 

No vista of pleasure outside of your arms ; 

And were I this instant an angel possessed 

Of the peace and the joy that are given the blest, 

I would fling my white robes unrepiningly down, 

And tear from my forehead its beautiful crown 

To nestle once more in that haven of rest, 

Your lips upon mine, my head on your breast. 

You kissed me ! My soul in a bliss so divine 

Reeled and swooned like a drunken man foolish with 

wine ; 
And I thought 'twere delicious to die then, if death 
Could but come while my lips were yet moist with your 

breath ; 



58 



*Twere delicious to die if my heart might grow cold 
While your arms clasped me round in that passionate 

fold! 
And these are the questions I ask day and night : 
Must my life taste but once such exquisite delight ? 
Would you care if your breast were my shelter as then ? 
And if you were here would you kiss me again ? 

Josephine Hunt 

SONNET 

I SAW her once, once only, long ago ; 
Yet now she often comes to me by night, 
Known by her hair, so silken-soft and bright, 
That veils warm cheeks where crimson roses throw 
A tender flush o'er pallid lily-snow. 
She speaks not ; only her golden head is light 
Above my heart, that throbs with wild delight — 
Dreaming she takes the love she cannot know. 

Dear distant love, doth some sweet spirit voice 
Breathe in thine ear, when slumber is most deep, 
All I were fain to tell if we should meet? 
And dost thou come, because the word is sweet, 
By shadowy paths we tread not save in sleep, 
To bid me trust the future and rejoice ? 




59 



YOU 

IF I could have my dearest wish fulfilled, 
And take my choice of all earth's treasures too, 
And ask from Heaven whatsoe'er I willed, 
I 'd ask for you. 

No man Td envy, neither low nor high. 
Nor king in castle old or palace new ; 
I'd hold Golconda's mines less rich than I, 
If I had you. 

Toil and privation, poverty and care, 

Undaunted I'd defy, nor future woo ; 
Having my wife, no jewels else Pd wear, 
If she were you. 

Little Vd care how lovely she might be. 

How graced with every charm, how fond, how true : 
E'en though perfection, she'd be naught to me 

Were she not you. m 

There is more charm for my true loving heart 

In everything you think, or say, or do. 
Than all the joys of Heaven could e'er impart, 
Because it's vou. 



THOUGH OFT DECEIVED 

SO, after all, 'tis better that we err 
In loving overmuch, though oft deceived. 
Than make our heart a sealed sepulchre 

From which the angel turns away aggrieved. 
60 ' 



HER ANSWER 

IF you could pluck earth's emerald 
And set it in a ring 
To glorify my finger — 
I could not call you King ! 

If you could trap the planets 

And bind them in a crown 
To magnify my glory — 

I should but cast it down ! 

But more than earth or heaven 

ril hold my heart above, 
If you will mould your passion 

To daily deeds of love. 

Mary Berri ChaPxMAN 



GIFTS 

YOU ask me what — since we must part — 
You shall bring back to me. 
Bring back a pure and faithful heart 
As true as mine to thee. 

You talk of gems from foreign lands, 

Of treasure, spoil, and prize. 
Ah love! I shall not search your hands 
But look into your eyes. 

Juliana Horatia Ewing 
6i 



MY KING 

YOU are all I have to live for, 
All that I want to love, 
All that the whole world holds for me 

Of faith in the world above. 
You came — and it seemed too mighty 

For my human heart to hold, 
It seemed in its sacred glory 

Like a glimpse thro' the gates of gold ; 
Like a life in its primal Eden, 

Created and formed anew — 
This charm of a perfect manhood 

That I realize in you. 

God created me a woman 

With a nature just and true 
As the blue eternal ocean, 

As the heavens over you ; 
And you are mine till your Maker calls you, JL 

Your soul and your body. Sweet ! ^ 

Your breath and the whole of your being 

From your kingly head to your feet ; 
Your eyes and the light that is in them, 

Your lips with their maddening wine. 
Your arms with their passionate clasp, my King, 

Your body and soul are mine! 

No power whatsoever, 

No will but God's alone. 
Can take you from my keeping. 

You are His and mine alone. 
I know not when, if ever, 
62 



I 



I know not where, or how, 
Death's hand may try the fetters 

That bind me here and now ; 
But some day when God beckons 

Where rise His fronded pahns. 
My soul shall cross the river 

And lay you in His arms ; — 
Forever and forever 

Beyond the silent sea, 
You will rest in the Arms Eternal 

And still belons: to me ! 



SHE LOVES AND LOVES FOREVER 

OH! say not woman's love is bought 
With vain and empty treasure. 
Oh! say not woman's heart is caught 

By every idle pleasure. 
When first her gentle bosom knows 

Love's flame, it wanders never ; 
Deep in her heart the passion glows, — 
She loves and loves forever. 

Oh ! say not woman's false as fair, 

That like the bee she ranges ; 
Still seeking flowers more sweet and rare 

As fickle fancy changes. 
Ah no! the love that first can warm 

Will leave her bosom never ; 
No second passion e'er can charm, 

She loves and loves forever. 

Thomas Love Peacock 
63 



TO LOVE THERE IS NO END 

THERE is an end to kisses and to sighs, 
There is an end to laughter and to tears : 
An end to fair things that delight our eyes, 

An end to pleasant sounds that charm our ears, 
An end to enmity^s foul libelling, 

And to the gracious praise of tender friend ; 
There is an end to all but one sweet thing — 
To Love there is no end. 

That warrior carved an empire with his sword. 
The empire now is but like him — a name ; 

That statesman spoke, and by a burning word 
Kindled a nation's heart into a flame ; 

Now naught is left but ashes, and we bring 
Our homage to new men ; to them we bend. 

There is an end to all but one sweet thing — 
To Love there is no end. 

All beauty fades away, or else, alas! 

Our eyes grow dim and they no beauty see ; 
The pageantries of Nature pass and pass. 

Quickly they come and quickly do they flee ; 
And he who hears the voice of welcoming 

Hears next the slow, sad farewell of his friend ; 
There is an end to all but one sweet thing — 
To Love there is no end. 



64 



LOST LOVE 

WHO wins his love shall lose her, 
Who loses her shall gain, 
For still the spirit woos her, 

A soul without a stain ; 
And memory still pursues her 
With longings not in vain! 

He loses her who gains her, 

Who watches day by day 
The dust of time that stains her, 

The griefs that leave her gray, 
The flesh that yet enchains her, 

Whose grace hath passed away ! 

Oh, happier he who gains not 
The love some seem to gain ; 

The joy that custom stains not 
Shall still with him remain, 

The loveliness that wanes not. 
The love that ne'er can wane. 

He dreams she g-rows not older 



Though all the songs be sung. 
In dreams doth he behold her 
Still fair and kind and young. 

Andrew Lang 



65 



SOMEWHERE OR OTHER 

SOMEWHERE or other there must surely be 
A face I have not seen, a voice not hfeard, 
A heart which not yet — never yet — ah me! 
Made answer to my word. 

Somewhere or other — maybe far away 

Across the marge where yonder sun doth set, 
Is one whose hours like mine are tinged with gray 
Because we have not met. 

Somewhere — oh, heart, my heart, it may be near 
With ever narrowing space betwixt us twain — 
Life will re-blossom when I meet my dear, 
And earth grow sweet again. 

Adapted from Christina G. Rossetti 



FROM THE PERSIAN 

WERE I despised and desolate and poor, 
Mocked of my foes, forsaken of my kin, 
If I should cry for pity at thy door. 



Ah, but if pain or sorrow or disgrace 

Came to thee, which God grant shall never be, 
Sleepless to serve thee and to see thy face 
To my life's end were bliss enough for me. 

J. B. B. Nichols 
66 



LOVE 

LOVE is a King and every heart a throne, 
Life lacks its purpose if Love reigns not there, 
Nothing on earth shall last save Love alone, 
Love stands between our world and dark despair 
And turns the cheerless night to morning fresh and 
fair. 

To some Love comes with smiles, and glad are they, 
To some he comes with tears and sighing breath, 
To some as slowly as the dawning day, 
To some he comes as swift as sudden death ; 
In all, in all the slumbering heart he quickeneth. 

A quiver of the voice — and love is born, 
Within the eyes, upon the lips he plays. 
Hand touches hand — and life is less forlorn, 
A rose is given, and in its heart conveys 

A message tender sweet that brightens all our days. 

In Heaven there is no fairer thing than Love, 
Than Love there is on earth no sweeter thing, 
It is to be desired all else above. 
And welcome to the heart, though pain it bring — 
O leave me not for aye, O Love, my King, my King 

G. H. Westley 




LOVE CANNOT DIE 

WEEP not that we must part ; 
Partings are short, eternity is long. 
Life is but one brief stage 
And they that say love ends with life are wrong. 
List to thy own heart's cry : 
Love cannot die! 

What though so far away? 
Thy thoughts are still wdth me, and wnth thee mine 

And absence has no power 
To lessen what by nature is divine. 

List to thine own heart's cry : 

Love cannot die! 

Then weep no more. My Love ; 
Weeping but shows thy trust in me is small. 

Faith is by calmness proved ; 
For know^ this truth : thou canst not love at all 

Unless thine own heart cry : 

Love cannot die! 



ME AND THEE 

ONE unto his Beloved came 
And knocked and called upon her name ; 
And from within a voice full sweet 
That made his heart to music beat, 
Cried, '• Who is there ? '' 
And low he made reply 
•'Love, it is L" 

68 



And the voice spoke in chill despair, 
" No room within this narrow hut 

For thee and me." 

And lo, immutably, 
The door was shut. 

Then the sad lover fled away, 
And wept and fasted night and day. 
In desert places making prayer, 
Nor saw the kindly face of men ; 
And after many days again 
To his Beloved's door he came 
And knocked and called upon her name : 
And from within a voice thereto 
Cried, "Who is there ?" 
And he whom love had taught, replied, 
" It is thyself ! " And lo. 
The door Avas opened wide. 

Ellice Hopkins, /r^w the Persiaji 



LOVE UNIVERSAL 



HERE'S not a wild flower blossominsf, 



T 

J- Nor creature of the field or wood, 
Nor bird of all the greening spring, 
But knows love's tender mood. 

And there is not a heart on earth 
That loves, but shall be loved again : 
Some other heart hath kindred birth 
And feels the same sweet pain. 
69 



is' 



CONSTANCY IN ABSENCE 

SOME day I think you will be glad to know 
That I have ever kept you in my heart, 
And that my love has ever deeper grown 
In all the time that we have lived apart. 

Some day when you have slipped away from care, 
And idly fall to dreaming of the past, 
And sadly think of all your life has missed — 
Will you remember my true heart at last? 

Or will it come to pass some dreary night — 
After a day that has been hard to bear, 
When you are weary, heartsick, and forlorn. 
And there is none to comfort or to care ; 

That you will close your tired eyes and dream 
Of tender kisses falling soft and light. 
Of restful touches smoothing back your hair — 
And sweet words spoken from your heart's delight 

Perhaps, then, you'll remember and be glad. 
That I so long kept you in my heart, 
And that your soul's true home will yet be there 
Although we wander silently apart. 



RENOUNCEMENT 

I MUST not think of thee ; and tired yet strong, 
I shun the love that lurks in all delight — 
The love of thee — and in the blue heavens' height, 
70 



And in the dearest passage of a song. 
Oh just beyond the sweetest thoughts that throng 
This breast, the thought of thee waits hidden yet 
bright ; 
But it must never, never come in sight ; 
I must stop short of thee the v/hole day long. 

But when sleep comes to close each difficult day, 
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep, 
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart, 
Must doff my will as raiment laid away, — 

With the first dream that comes with the first sleep 
I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart. 

Alice Meynell 



TO 



TELL me your joy, that I may tune my life 
To echo the glad music of your own, 
The changing melody, the sunny strife 

Of harmonies blent in one full sweet tone. 
So shall the faithful shadow of my night 
Heighten your happy radiance of delight. 

Tell me your sorrow, that I may disdain 
Mirth and rejoicing, banish all relief, 

Save the sad ecstasy, the cruel gain 

Of being one with you, dear heart, in grief. 

You did deny me love — have you no woe. 
No pain, to share with one who loves you so ? 
71 



DOUBT 

SOMETIMES, my darling, I have suffered doubt, 
Sometimes — when what you said or did seemed 
cold, 
A hand more chill than Death^s took sudden hold 
Upon my heart, and all the sunny view 
Grew dark, my darling, when I doubted you ; 

That was a longer night than ever drew 

Its sable curtain o'er the western red ; 

I lived and yet I felt that I was dead. 

I prayed that I might hate you, but in vain, 

The prayer reproached me with a deeper pain. 

Then I recalled your tenderness to me. 
And vowed I still would cherish sweet belief; 
Cast off the shadow of my doubt and grief, 
Forget what eyes had seen or ears had heard, 
And deem the motive kinder than the word. 

'Twas well, for time's ordeal proved your love, 

Beyond your weary words I learned to see 

The daily effort bravely made for me ; 

My heart was blind, dear love, when doubting you, 

For oh, you loved me better than I knew ! 

Alas, could we but see with clearer eyes, 
Alas, could we but hear with keener ears, 
We should have truer hearts, live better years, 
And not regret too late the brave and true. 
The hearts that loved us better than we knew. 

Mary Berri Chapman 
72 



I 



SWEETHEART 

SWEETHEART, I have no hero's face 
To plead my passion's cause, 
No knightly, no persuasive grace 

To win the world's applause. 
What should I do — what can I be, 
Sweetheart, to be beloved of thee ? 

The waters play not in my life. 

Like fountains sparkling clear. 
They rush not with the torrent's strife ; 

Mine is the deep, still mere. 
Where one bright face, beloved by me. 
Sweetheart, I still reflected see. 

No buds of Spring, no tender shoots, 

No Summer flowers that fade, 
Only the Autumn's mellow fruits 

Are mine. Art thou afraid, 
Sweetheart, to trust thy life to me, 
Who would lay down my life for thee ? 

Hamilton Aide 



WHY? 

WHY are we bereft of all happiness, dearest ? 
So little would help us, so little would cheer. 
The heaviest trials, the sorrows severest 
Would only be blessings when shared with you, dear. 

"Viola" 
73 



WE LOVE BUT FEW 

/^H, yes, we mean all kind words that we say 
^-^^ To old friends and to new ; 
Yet doth this truth grow clearer day by day : 
We love but few. 

We love ! we love ! What easy words to say 
And sweet to hear, 

When sunrise splendor brightens all the way. 
And far and near, 

Are breath of flowers and carolling of birds 
And bells that chime. 

Our hearts are light ; we do not weigh our words 
At morning time ! 



But when the matin music all is hushed, 
And life's great load 

Doth weigh us down, and thick with dust 
Doth grow the road. 

Then do we say less often that we love, 
The words have grown t 
With pleading eyes we look to Christ above 
And clasp our own. 

Their lives are bound to ours by mighty bands. 
No mortal strait 

Nor death himself, with his prevailing hands 
Can separate. 

74 



The world is wide and many friends are dear, 
And friendships true ; 

Yet do these words read plainer year by year : 
We love but few. 



UNSPOKEN 

AH, never doubt my love is true 
That not in speech it flows, 
For, dear, I cannot tell it you. 

My heart no language knows ; 
And still can only yearn and ache 
In silence though it break. 

But not by any speech is known 
The hidden lore of deep and height ; 

The sea has nothing but a moan, 
The dark is silent and the light ; 

The grandest music needs no word 

To make its meaning heard. 

You dwell amidst my daily strife, 

A thing apart, divine. 
And all that's noblest in my life 

Is incense at your shrine, 
For every worthy deed I do 
Is done for love of you. 

A. St. John Adcock 

75 



PERSIAN LOVE SONG 

AS the cloud to the wind I am docile to thee ; 
As the rose to the nightingale sweet would I be, 
And deep in thy thought as a pearl in the sea. 

Thou art gone — falls the dark ! Thou art here — 

breaks the morn ! 
Our sunlight without thee seems brilliance forlorn ; 
And this world's a dead king, of all royalty shorn. 

What is love but a bird that w^ould touch the blue sky ? 
What is love but a viol-string pitched far too high ? 
What is love but the heart's unappeasable cry ? 

I wait thee, heart's dearest — let life be the grove 
Where I long for and meet thee, and walk with my 

love — 
The green lawns for carpet, the white stars above. 

Blanche Lindsay 



WHEN WILL LOVE COME? 

SOME find Love late, some find him soon, 
Some with the rose in May, 
Some with the nightingale in June, 
And some when skies are gray. 

Love comes to some with smiling eyes. 

And comes with tears to some ; 
For some Love sings, for some Love sighs, 

For some Love's lips are dumb. 




I WAIT thep:, heart's dearest 



V* 



How will you come to me, fair Love ? 

Will you come late or soon ? 
With sad or smiling skies above, 

By light of sun or moon ? 

Will you be sad, will 'ou be sweet, 

Sing, sigh, love, or oe dumb ? 
Will it be summer when we meet, 

Or autumn ere you come ? 

Pakenham Beatty 



SWEETHEART, GOOD-BY ! 

SWEETHEART, good-by ! The fluttering sail 
Is spread to waft me far from thee. 
And soon before the favVing gale 

My ship shall bound upon the sea. 
Perchance all desolate and forlorn, 

These eyes shall miss thee many a year, 
But unforgotten every charm — 

Though lost to sight, to memory dear. 

Sweetheart, good-by ! one last embrace ! 

O cruel Fate, true souls to sever ! 
Yet in this heart's most sacred place 

Thou, thou alone shall dwell forever ! 
And still shall recollection trace 

In Fancy's mirror, ever near, 
Each smile, each tear, that form, that face, — 

Though lost to sight, to memory dear. 

Jenkyn (about 1700) 
77 



WITH NO ONE TO LOVE US 

SCENES that are brightest 
May charm us awhile ; 
Hearts that are lightest 
And eyes that smile ; 
Yet o'er them above us 

Though Nature beam, 
With no one to love us 
How sad they seem. 

Edward Ball 



WILT THOU BE LONG? 

WILT thou be long ? The w^orkful day is o'er, 
The wind croons softly to the sleeping sea ; 
At the old spot upon the lonely shore 

I wait for thee. 
Home to his nest the swift gray gull is winging, 
Through the still dusk I hear the sailor's song, 
Night to the weary, rest from toil is bringing — 
Wilt thou belong? 

Wilt thou be long? The darkness gathers fast, 
The daisies fold their fringes on the lea ; 
Time is so fleeting, and youth will not last, 

Oh, come to me ! 
In the clear west a silver star is burning. 
But sad misgivings all my bosom throng, 
With anxious heart I wait for thy returning — 

Wilt thou be long? 

E. Matheson 

78 



MAN^S LOVE 

MAN'S love is of mane's life a thing apart. 
'Tis woman's whole existence : man may range 
The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart ; 

Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange. 
Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart. 

And few there are whom these cannot estrange ; 
Men have all these resources, we but one. 
To love again, and be again undone. 

Byron 

WHEN WE ARE PARTED 

"^"X THEN we are parted let me lie 
* * In some far corner of thy heart. 
Silent and from the world apart. 

Like a forgotten melody : 

Forgotten of the world beside, 
Cherished by one, and one alone 
For some loved memory of its own; 

So let me in thy heart abide 
When we are parted. 

When we are parted, keep for me 
The sacred stillness of the night ; 
That hour, sweet Love, is mine by right : 

Let others claim the day of thee ! 

The cold world sleeping at our feet, 
My spirit shall discourse with thine ; — 
When stars upon thy pillow shine, 

At thy heart's door I stand and beat 
Though we are parted. 

Hamilton Aide 

79 



WHEN SHE COMES 

SOMETIMES I think I will be cold with her 
When next we meet, — and with indifferent 
words 
I'll set a barrier 'twixt her heart and mine. 
I'll speak of friendship — ah, how chill that word 
Strikes on my ear after what we have been. 
But then 'twere best ; no more of love, no more ! — 
So will I greet her when we meet again. 

But when she comes, ah ! then within my heart 
The fount of passion bursts these icy bounds. 
I only hold my longing arms to her. 
And gaze into her eyes, and kiss her hair, 
And clasp her, clasp her to my yearning breast. 

G. H. Westley 



LOVE ME NOT 

LOVE me not for comely grace. 
For my pleasing eye or face. 
Nor for any outward part : 
No, nor for my loving heart ! 
For these may fail or turn to ill : 

So thou and I shall sever. 
Keep therefore a true woman's eye. 
And love me still, but know not why ! 
So hast thou the same reason still 
To dote upon me ever. 

John Wilbye (1609) 
80 



I 



To sigh, yet feel no pain ; 
To weep, yet scarce know why ; 
To sport an hour with beauty's chain, 

Then throw it idly by ; 
To kneel at many a shrine, 

Yet lay the heart on none ; 
To think all other charms divine, 

But those we just have won ; 
This is love — careless love — 
Such as kindleth hearts that rove. 

To keep one sacred flame 

Through life, unchill'd, unmov'd ; 
To love in wintry age the same 

That first in youth we loved ; 
To feel that we adore 

To such refined excess. 
That though the heart would break with more^ 

We could not live with less ; 
This is love — faithful love, — 
Such as saints might feel above. 

Thomas Moore 




THE UNSPOKEN QUESTION 

I THOUGHT I must be dreaming 
The day you whispered low, 
And told me the sweet secret 
That I alone must know. 

I listened quite in silence, 

Perhaps you thought me cold ; 

My heart was overflowing 
With tenderness untold. 

Just for one fleeting moment, 

One only did you stay. 
Were you and I both dreaming 

That happy summer's day ? 



I DO NOT LOVE THEE 

I DO not love thee ! — no ! I do not love thee ! 
And yet when thou art absent I am sad ; 
And envy even the bright blue sky above thee, 
Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad. 

I do not love thee ! — yet, I know not why. 
Whatever thou dost seems still well done, to me — 
And often in my solitude I sigh — 
That those I do love are not more like thee ! 

I do not love thee ! — yet, when thou art gone 

I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear) 

Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone 

Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear. 

%2 



I do not love thee ! — yet thy speaking eyes, 
With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue- 
Between me and the midnight heaven arise, 
Oftener than any eyes I ever knew. 

I know I do not love thee ! yet, alas ! 
Others will scarcely trust my candid heart ; 
And oft I catch them smiling as they pass. 
Because they see me gazing where thou art. 

Hon. Mrs. Norton 



LOVE IS FOREVER 

LOVE is forever — think no more 
You give and take your heart at will : 
'Tis mine — or was not mine before ; 
You never loved — or love me still ! 

You seem to hate — appeared to love. 
But one was false; choose which you will. 
You hate? Your love a lie has proved ! 
You loved ? Why then you love me still ! 

Then say no more your love is dead, 
Nor death, nor hell, true love can kill. 
Were it a dream, it might have fled. 
But love, you loved, and love me still. 

E. E, Bradford 
83 



WHY I LOVE THEE 

NOT for the splendor of the brow that shines 
Upon me at this minute, love ; 
Not for the cunning ringlet that entwines 
Snake-like the finger in it, love ; 
Not for thy wit, nor for thy radiant smiles, 
Nor that sweet voice that my dark hour beguiles, 
Do I adore thee ! But because I see 
Something none other has, sweetheart, in thee. 

There is a beauty that a man desires, 

And w^earies with possessing, love — 

What is the secret charm that never tires ? 

A secret worth the guessing, love ! 

And thou hast guessed it — of the stars and moon 

And glad returning morn ; for I as soon 

Of Nature's fairest sights and sounds could tire 

As, kneeling here, could other shrine desire. 

Hamilton Aide 



LOVE 

LOVE is not a feeling to pass away, 
Like the balmy breath of a summer's day; 
It is not — it cannot be — laid aside ; 
It is not a thing to forget or hide. 
It clings to the heart — ah, woe is me ! — 
As the ivy clings to the old oak tree. 

Charles Dickens 
84 



LIGHT 

THE night has a thousand eyes, 
The day but one ; 
Yet the light of the bright world dies 
With the dying sun. 

The mind has a thousand eyes, 

The heart but one ; 
Yet the light of the whole life dies 

When love is done. 

F. W. BOURDILLON 



LOVE'S WAKING 

IS Love a dream? In truth, they tell me so. 
And pity me because I cannot know 
That tender glances, whispers sweet and low. 
Thrill for a summer's day and are no more. 

But this I know, that if it is a dream, 
I would not be as wise as they, to deem 
That fair things can be false, and when they seem 
To promise most, that we should least adore. 

They speak of waking from that dream, while I 
Know but one waking, and that is not nigh. 
For it will come when she I love shall die. 
Then I shall wake to sorrow evermore. 
85 



THE RECOMPENSE 

I CALLED on Love and I said : 
I have eaten ashes for bread. 
I have mingled my drink with tears 
All these years. 

I have watched while others slept, 
I have ofttimes fasted and wept, 
I have taken no delight 
Day or night. 

What hast thou done for me 
Who have given my life to thee, 
And have paid ceaseless vows 
In thy house ? 

I have humbled myself at thy feet, 
And taken bitter for sweet, 
And have striven to fulfil 
All thy will. 

Hast thou brought me any nigher 
To the end of my desire ? 

at guerdon hast thi 

Love, in heaven ? 



And thou hast proved me long ; 
What hast thou given, O Lord, 
For reward ? 
86 



I cried upon Love and he heard 
And he answered me but a word ; 
From the height of heaven above 
Love said — " Love ! " 



UNTIL DEATH 

MAKE me no vows of constancy, dear friend, 
To love me, though I die, thy whole life long. 
And love no other till thy days shall end — 
Nay, it were rash and wrong. 

If thou canst love another, be it so ; 

I would not reach out of my quiet grave 
To bind thy heart, if it should choose to go — 

Love should not be a slave. 

My placid ghost, I trust, will walk serene 

In clearer light than gilds those earthly morns. 

Above the jealousies and envies keen 
Which sow this life with thorns. 

Thou wouldst not feel my shadowy caress, 
If, after death, my soul should linger here ; 

Men's hearts crave tangible, close tenderness, 
Love's presence warm and near. 

It would not make me sleep more peacefully 
That thou wert wasting all thy life in woe 

For my poor sake ; what love thou hast for me 
Bestow it ere I go ! 

^1 



Carve not upon a stone when I am dead 
The praises which remorseful mourners give 

To women's graves — a tardy recompense — 
But speak them while I live. 

Heap not the heavy marble on my head 
To shut away the sunshine and the dew ; 

Let small blooms grow there, and let grasses wave, 
And raindrops filter through. 

Thou wilt meet many fairer and more gay 
Than I ; but, trust me, thou canst never find 

One who will love and serve thee night and day 
With a more single mind. 

Forget me when I die ! The violets 
Above my rest will blossom just as blue. 

Nor miss my tears ; e'en nature's self forgets, 
But while I live, be true ! 



TO MABEL 

WITH leaden foot Time creeps along, 
When thou, dear, art away. 
With thee, nor plaintive was my song, 
Nor tedious was the day. 

Ah ! envious Time, my sentence change : 

Pass now with winged feet. 
Fly swiftly when apart we range 
And loiter when we meet. 

Adapted from Richard Jago 
88 






LATE LOVE 

LOVE came to me through the gloaming : 
The dew on his wings lay wet, 
And the voice of his wistful greeting 

Was weary with old regret. 
" O heart," he sighed at my casement, 
" Must I wait for a welcome yet ? " 

He had come with the early flowers 

In the golden shining morn ; 
But I asked a gift he bestowed not — 

A rose without a thorn. 
So through the glare of the noontide. 

He left me to toil forlorn. 

And now — in life's quiet evening 
When long are the shadows cast — 

He comes with a few pale blossoms 
He has saved from a hungry past ; 

And into my heart unquestioned 
1 take him to rest at last. 

M. E. Martyn 




89 



IF THOU WERT FALSE 

IF thou wert false to me, what could I do ? — 
If thou wert false to me what could I say ? 
Could I look up and face the light of day — 
Thou faithless and I true ? 

I could not dare to speak a word of blame, 

But in my heart the grief would lie and ache ; 
Calmness without, my lips could never take 
The music of thy name. 

The pain would choke me if I tried to weep — 

The stifled sorrow would lay waste within ; 
Tears might relieve, but tears I might not win — 
Rest, but I could not sleep. 

There could be neither tears, nor speech, nor rest. 

Till I forgave as I would be forgiven ; 
Then might the bonds of frozen grief be riven 
And sobbings ease my breast. 

If thou wert false to me while I was true, 

I would remember rather than forget — 
Loving thee still with that uncancelled debt 
Of love forever due. 

Arthur L. Salmon 



Alas for Love, if thou wert all. 
And naught beyond, O Earth! 

Felicia D. Hemans 
90 



HAWTHORN 

THE hand I love has dropped a spray 
Of softly-tinted, scented may, 
The dew clings to it still; 
The hand I love will never miss 
The little flower that I can kiss 
And fondle at my will. 

The heart I love will never guess 
What charm to soothe life's loneliness, 

I found beside the way ; 
With hands close-clasped about my prize, 
I walked beneath the tender skies 

So tender yet so gray. 

I walk alone, and I must go 
Forever all my life below ; 

For me the gentle spring 
That bears sweet messages to earth 
Hath naught to say of joy's new birth 

Or love's new blossoming. 

And yet I love thee ! Well — 'tis well, 
Though my poor lips may never tell 

The tale with tender prayer. 
I drop my poor heart in thy way. 
As thou hast dropped this hawthorn spray, 

But dost thou know — or care .'' 

I hide thy flower upon a breast 
That throbs with passionate unrest, 
That aches and longs for thee ! 
91 



But with calm face and placid eye 
My poor, poor heart thou passest by, 
And wilt not turn to see. 



So be it — and so best ! My heart 
Is fain to learn that selfless part, 

The teaching is divine ; 
I love thee to life's longest day. 
Though the dear hand that dropped the may, 

Be never, never mine! 



MY EARLY LOVE 

MY early love! Fll think on thee 
When evening seeks its crimson throne 
Sweet hour, which gentle Memory 
Delights to consecrate her own. 
Ah! then thy cherished image clings 

To all I meet, or hear, or see. 
And twilight's breeze, like music brings 
Thy voice of gladness back to me. 

Friendship's young bloom may pass away 

As dreams depart the sleeper's mind. 
The hopes of life's maturer day 

May fade and leave no trace behind ; 
But early love can never die, 

The fairest bud of spring's bright years, 
' Twill still look green in memory, 

When time all other feeling sears. 
92 



YOU AND I 

THE winter wind is wailing, sad and low, 
Across the lake and through the rustling sedge : 
The splendor of the golden afterglow 

Gleams through the blackness of the great yew hedge 
And this I read on earth and in the sky : 
We ought to be together, You and I. 

Rapt through its rosy changes into dark. 

Fades all the west ; and through the shadowy trees, 
And in the silent uplands of the park. 

Creeps the soft sighing of the rising breeze. 
It does but echo to my weary sigh, 
We ought to be together, You and I. 



My ear is tired, waiting for your call ; 
I want your strength to help, your laugh to cheer ; 

Heart, soul, and senses need you, one and all, 
I droop without your full frank sympathy ; 
We ought to be together. You and I. 

We want each other so, to comprehend 

The dream, the hope, things planned, or seen, or 
wrought ; 
Companion, comforter, and guide, and friend 

As much as love asks love, does thought ask thought : 
Life is so short, so fast the lone hours fly, 
We ought to be together. You and I. 

Henry Alford 



93 



A LOVE LETTER 

/lA/'D do you t/u?ik of nie 

When y oil and I are far apart, 
All day and every day, ?ny heart, 
Whatever yon may do ? 
And do yon with impatient pain, 
Connt all the days and all the hours, 
Until that time of snn and flowers 
When we shall meet again ? 

I lay the letter down — 
Ah me ! my little childish love, 
Life's April skies are blue above 

Thy path, and spring flowers crown 

The unbound beauties of thine hair ; 
Life's April daisies kiss thy feet, 
Life's April song-birds clear and sweet 

Sing round thee everywhere. 

All life is new to thee ; 
Thy childish tasks are scarce set by. 
Thy childish tears are hardly dry, 

Thy merry laugh rings free ; 

Love met thee suddenly one day 
Among thy toys, he kissed thine eyes 
And in the rush of sweet surprise 

The child soul slipped away. 

Now love fills all thine heart, 
It glorifies life's simple round. 
It sets thee, robed, anointed, crowned, 
94 



i 



And like a Queen, apart. 

Above all common blame and praise — 
Ah love! God giveth, giving thee, 
The grace of vanished years to me, 

The joy of bygone days. 

Yet change the years have wrought ; 
I cannot count the days and hours. 
Nor play, like thee, with daisy flowers 

At " loves me, loves me not ; '' 

My heart and I are past our spring. 
Youth's morning-prime, all rose and gold, 
With pains and pleasures manifold, 

Life once, but once, doth bring. 

I love thee, little one, 
With all the passion of my soul, 
Firm as the fixed unchanging pole, 

And fervent as the sun ; 

But, child, my life is not as thine, 
The world must have her share of me, 
I cannot sit at ease like thee 

Beneath love's spreading vine. 

I must be up and hold 
My own in that unceasing strife 
Whereby man wins his bread of life. 

His share of needful gold ; 

I have my share to win and keep, 
My share and thine to make a home 
For thee and me in years to come — 

Ah love! true love lies deep! 
95 



I cannot count like thee 
The hours and minutes as they fleet, 
Nor loiter in the busy street 

As thou beside the sea 

To picture meetings far away ; 
But I can love a lifetime long 
With love that will be leal and strong, 

And green when life is gray. 

I do not pause to tell 
The minute beatings of my heart. 
In crowded street and busy mart. 

Yet know I all is well : 

So like the heart within my breast 
Thine image lies, and broods above 
Its faithful pulses. Oh, my love, 

So sheltered, be at rest ! 



LOVE IS A TREE 

LOVE is a tree that demands 
Culture and warmth at our hands ; 
You who put ice to its root. 
Look not thereafter for fruit. 

Augusta De Gruchy 



LOVE 

PRAY, how comes Love ? 
It comes unsought, unsent. 
Pray, how goes Love ? 

That w^as not Love that w^ent. 
96 



THE MATCH OF LOVE 

THE match of Love is of so quick a sort 
It can be lighted with the merest touch ; 
And let it once be kindled, e'en in sport, 
Cool reason, thawing, finds the flame too much. 
If Love within our hearts an entry gain. 
Love is triumphant, all things else are vain. 



LOVE'S FLAME 

ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, 
Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 
Are but the ministers of Love, 
And feed his sacred flame. 

S. T. Coleridge 



WHAT IT IS TO LOVE 

IT is to be all bathed in tears ; 
To live upon a smile for years ; 
To lie whole ages at a beauty's feet ; 
To kneel, to languish, and implore ; 
And still, though she disdain, adore : — 
It is to do all this and think thy sufferings sweet. 

It is to gaze upon her eyes 

With eager joy and fond surprise ; 
Yet tempered with such chaste and awful fear, 

As wretches feel who wait their doom ; 

Nor must one ruder thought presume. 
Though but in whispers breathed, to meet her ear. 

97 



It is to hope, though hope were lost ; 1 

Though heaven and earth thy passion crossed ; 
Though she were bright as sainted queens above, ' 

And thou the least and meanest swain 

That folds his flocks upon the plain, — 
Yet, if thou dost not hope, thou dost not love. 

It is to quench thy joy in tears, 

To nurse strange doubts and groundless fears ; 
If pangs of jealousy thou hast not proved, — 

Though she were fonder and more true 

Than any nymph old poets drew, — 
O never dream that thou hast loved ! 

If when the darling maid is gone, 

Thou dost not seek to be alone. 
Wrapped in a pleasing trance of tender woe. 

And muse and fold thy languid arms. 

Feeding thy fancy on her charms. 
Thou dost not love, — for love is nourished so. 

If any hopes thy bosom share 

But those which love has planted there, 
Or any cares but his thy breast enthrall. 

Thou never yet his power hath known. 

Love sits on a despotic throne, 
And reigns a tyrant, if he reigns at all. 



Here all thy tender sorrows bring. 
And prove whose patience longest can endure 
We'll strive whose fancy shall be lost 
98 



In dreams of fondest passion most, 
For if thou thus hast loved, O never hope a cure ! 
Anna Letitia Barbauld 



"LOVE, WITHOUT THEE" 

A H, for this w^eary life ! 
-^^ Were there not peace with thee — 
Could I endure its strife, 

Did it not cease with thee ? 
Star of my dwelling-place, 

Where'er it be. 
Earth would have lost its grace, 

Love, without thee ! 

Time robbeth, day by day, 

Bright hours of youth from us, 
Yet he steals not away 

Constancy's truth from us. 
Star ! that with Morning's light 

Shone over me. 
How could I meet the Night, 

Love, without thee? 

Time, with unerring spade, 

Digs a grave low for us ; 
Yet shall not love be laid 

There, when tears flow for us. 
Star, that with purer beam 

Shines o'er Death's sea, 
Joyless would heaven seem, 

Love, without thee ! 

Hamilton Aide 
99 



ONE ISNT LOVED EVERY DAY 

THE world is filled with folly and sin, 
And Love must cling where it can, I say : 
For Beauty is easy enough to win, 
But one isn't loved every day. 

Owen Meredith 




lOO 



Ill 
LOVE'S EVENING 



I 



Had we never Imjed so kindly, 
Had we never loved so blindly. 
Never met, or never parted. 
We had ne'er beeti broken-hearted. 

Robert Burns 

Love it begins with music and zvith song. 
And ends with sorrow and with sighs ere lo7tg. 

From the Tuscan 



I 



4 




AWAKE 

NO longer sleep, 
Oh, listen now. 
I wait and weep, 
But where art thou ? 

Still barred thy door ; the far east glows. 
The morning wind blows fresh and free ; 

Should not the hour that wakes the rose 
Awaken also thee? 

All look for thee. Love, Light, and Song — 
Light in the sky deep red above, 

Song, in the lark of pinions strong, 
And in my heart, true Love. 

Apart we miss our nature's goal ; 

Why strive to cheat our destinies ? 
Was not my love made for thy soul ? 

Thy beauty for my eyes ? 

TORU DUTT 

105 



FATE 

TWO shall be born the whole wide world apart, 
And speak in different tongues and have no thought 
Each of the other's being, and no heed ; 
Yet these o'er unknown seas to unknown lands 
Shall cross ; escaping wreck, defying death, 
And all unconsciously shape every act 
And bend each wandering step unto this end, 
That one day out of darkness they shall meet 
And read life's meaning in each other's eyes. 

And two shall walk some narrow way of life 
So closely side by side, that should one turn 
Ever so little space to left or right 
They needs must stand acknowledged face to face ; 
Yet these with groping hands that never clasp, 
With wistful eyes that never meet, and lips 
Calling in vain on ears that never hear. 
Shall wander all their weary days unknown 
And die unsatisfied. And this is Fate. 

Susan Mark Spalding 

Copyright^ 1892, by Roberts Bros. 



AN APPEAL 

AH ! could you see me weep in anguish sore 
By the sad hearth I dare not call a home. 
Sometimes I think, dear one, before my door 
Would you not come? 
106 



Could you but guess my joy when your eyes meet 

My wearied eyes in one divinest glance, 
Up at my window you would look, my sweet. 
As if by chance. 

If to my wounded heart you knew the balm 

Of sympathy, and love that has no guile, 
Under my porch — a sister sweet and calm — 
You'd rest awhile. 

Ah ! darling, if you knew I loved, and how 

A love so great and pure your love must win. 
Perhaps you'd lift the latch, — yes, even now, — 
And come within! 

Florence Henniker 
after Sully Prudhomme 

FORGIVE ME NOW 

WAIT not the morrow, but forgive me now ; 
Who knows what fate to-morrow's dawn may 
bring ? 
Let us not part with shadow on thy brow, 
With my heart hungering. 

Wait not to-morrow, but entwine thy hand 
In mine with sweet forgiveness full and free, 

Of all life's joys I only understand 
This joy of loving thee. 

Perhaps some day I may redeem the wrong. 
Repair the fault — I know not when or how. 

O dearest, do not wait — it may be long — 
Only forgive me now. 

107 



AT YOUR GATE 

MY darling, my darling, my darling, 
Do you know how I want you to-night? 
The wind passes moaning and snarling, 

Like some evil ghost in its flight. 
On the wet street your lamp's gleam shines redly 

You are sitting alone — did you start 
As I spoke? Did you guess at the deadly 
Chill pain in my heart ? 

Out here the dull rain is falling, 

Just once — just a moment — I wait. 
Did you hear the sad voice that was calling 

Your name, as I paused at the gate ? 
It was just a mere breath, ah, I know, dear, 

Not even Love's ears could have heard ; 
But oh ! I was hankering so, dear. 

For one little word. 

Do you think I am ever without you? 

Ever lose for an instant your face 
Or the spell that breathes always about you, 

Of your subtle, ineffable grace ? 
Why, even to-night, put away, dear, 

From the light of your eyes though I stand, 
I feel as I linger and pray, dear, 

The touch of your hand. 

Ah me! for a word that could move you 

Like a whisper of magical art ! 
I love you! I love you! I love you! 

There is no other word in my heart. 
1 08 



Will your eyes that are loving, still love me? 

Will your heart, once so tender, forgive? 
Ah! darling, stoop down from above me. 

And tell me to live. 

Barton Gray 

AFTER ALL! 

I THINK that he loved me ! at least, he said 
That the world could never be just the same. 
After the ashes lay cold and dead. 

The ashes of love that were once aflame. 
He said that always about my name. 

Was the sweet, sad sigh of an old regret ! 
That life could never be quite the same, 
Or quite as glad as of old — but yet — 
I know that somewhere he lives — ah, me ! 
Somewhere without me — beyond recall ! 
The old, sweet bondage has left him free — 

After all ! 

I know that I loved him ! at least, I know. 

That when the ashes were gray and dead, 
I felt the flame of the long ago 

Brighten my life to a fiery red. 
He was not worthy! Ah, so they said ! 

Not worthy even an hour^s regret ! 
So I told them the sweet old love was dead — 

Buried like other loves — but yet — 
Could the waters of Lel\e flow — ah, me! 

And cover the past beyond recall, 

I know I could never again be free — 

After all ! 

G. Butt 
109 



PASSION AND PATIENCE 



T 



HE wine of life tastes stale and sour, 
The gilt comes off the golden year, 
All shadowed is " each shining hour," 
Because, sweetheart, you are not here. 

The stupid people come and go. 

And prate of pleasures old and new ; 

But they offend and bore me so, 

Because, sweetheart, they are not you. 

And you, meanwhile, accept what good 
The gods provide, and leave the rest ; 

Nor would you alter if you could 

The state of things that Fate thinks best : 

For you — as happy days pass by 
And bring you friendships not a few — 

May meet another Me ; but I 
Shall never find another You. 

Ellen Thornycroft Fowler 



AN UNEQUAL GAME 

A MOMENT of lovin<^ 
A jest and a gay good-bye. 
If you in a short week after 
Forget, why may not I ? 

To you but a moment's feeling, 
A touch and a tender tone ; 

But a wound that knows no healing 
To me who am left alone. 
no 



J 



THIS IS ALL 

UST a saunter in the twilight, 
Just a whisper in the hall, 
Just a sail on sea or river, 
Just a dance at rout or ball, 
Just a glance that hearts enthrall — 
This is all — and this is all. 

Just a few harsh words of doubting. 
Just a silence proud and cold, 
Just a spiteful breath of slander, 
Just a wrong that is not told. 
Just a word beyond recall — 
This is all — and this is all. 

Just a life robbed of its brightness. 
Just a heart by sorrow filled. 
Just a faith that trusts no longer, 
Just a love by doubting chilled. 
Just a few hot tears that fall — 
This is all — ah ! this is all. 

Rose Churchill 




THE NOON OF LIFE 

STAY one moment, ere you leave me ; 
Having left me, time will show 
You were thoughtless to deceive me, 

I was mad to love you so. 
Though you say our lives must sever. 

Though I tell of broken ties, 
You will hold me bound forever 
By your everlasting eyes. 

You will find, forinosa cava, 

If you take the pains to try, 
Many a better man and far a 

Richer lover lord than I. 
Though the past you try to smother, 

Saying truly we must part, 
Dearest, you may find another, 

Never such a faithful heart. 

Through the long approaching years ; 
When your folly I remember, 

My sad eyes will fill with tears. 
You may drown my heart in sorrow, 

When my fancy sighs your name ; 
Break another heart to-morrow, 

I shall ever be the same. 

When I dream of love mistaken, 
When the evening lamp is lit ; 

When I feel I am forsaken. 
When disconsolate I sit : 



When the spring comes — then you met me — 

I may think it sad to live ; 
Your reproach is to forget me ; 

My revenge is to forgive. 

Clement Scott 



STRANGERS YET 

STRANGERS yet ! 
After years of Hfe together, 
After fair and stormy weather, 
After travel in far lands, 
After touch of wedded hands, — 
Why thus joined? Why ever met, 
If they must be strangers yet ? 

Strangers yet ! 
After strife for common ends. 
After title of " old friends," 
After passions fierce and tender, 
After cheerful self-surrender. 
Hearts may beat and eyes be met 
And the souls be strangers yet. 

Strangers yet! 
Oh ! the bitter thought to scan 
All the loneliness of man : — 
Nature by magnetic laws, 
Circle unto circle draws, 
But they only touch when met. 
Never mingle — strangers yet. 

Lord Houghton 
113 



IF ONLY YOU WERE HERE 

IF only you were here to-night ; 
If I might lift my longing eyes to trace 
Your dreamy eyes down-looking on my face, 
With their half- veiled, half-smiling tenderness, — 
O first and best and dearest, can you guess 
How in my lonely heart your altar-flame 
Would leap to sudden glorious fire, and shame 
All these sad, darkened hours of fear and blame. 
If only you were here ? 

If only you were here to-night. 
Here close beside me where the soft rain falls 
And through the darkness the sweet church-bell calls. 
And all the quiet world takes on repose, — 
O warmest heart ! if you were here, so close 
That I might lean down on your breast, 
What could I ask of sweeter calm or rest ? 
Who in God's happy world could be more blest 
If only you were here ? 

If only you were here to-night, 
O Love, my Love, my Love, so far from me ! 
Through all dividing space, where'er you be. 
My winged thoughts fly fast and far and free. 
Seeking like birds to find their sheltering nest. 

gentle heart, make such a welcome guest ! 
Across the lonely world I know not where 

1 send the longing silence of this prayer — 

If only you were here. 

Hester A. Benedict 
114 



DRIFTING AWAY 

DRIFTING away from each other, 
Silently drifting apart ; 
Nothing between but the world's cold screen, 
Nothing to lose, but a heart. 

Only two lives dividing 

More and more day by day ; 
Only one soul from another soul 

Steadily drifting away. 

Only a man's heart striving 

Bitterly hard with its doom ; 
Only a hand, tender and bland, 

Slipping away in the gloom. 

Nothing of doubt or wrong ; 

Nothing that either can cure ; 
Nothing to shame ; nothing to blame : 

Nothing to do, but endure. 



Tides ebb, and women change ; 

Nothing here that is worth a tear, 

One love less, nothing strange. 

Drifting away from each other 

Steadily drifting apart ; 
No wrong to each that the world can reach. 

Nothing lost — but a heart ! 

Barton Gray 

"5 



A REMONSTRANCE 

DEEiM, if thou wilt, that I am all, and worse 
Than all, they bid thee deem that I must be. 
But ah ! wilt thou desert love's universe 
Deserting me ? 

Not for my sake be mine unworth forgiven, 

But for thine own. Since I, despite my dearth 
Of all that made thee what thou art, my Heaven, 
Am still thine Earth. 

Who will hold dear the ashes of the days 

Burn'd out on altars deem'd no more divine? 
Rests there of thy souFs wealth enough to raise 



Who will forgive thy cheek its faded bloom 

Save he whose kisses that blanched rose hath fed? 
Thine eyes, the stain of tears — save he for whom 
Those tears were shed? 

Despite the blemisht beauty of thy brow. 

Thou wouldst be lonely couldst thou love again ; 
For love renews the beautiful. But thou 
Hast only pain. 

Ah, if thy heart can pardon yet, why yet 

Should not its latest pardon be for me? 
And if thou wilt not pardon, canst thou set 
Thy future free ? 

****** 
ii6 



Then if the flush of love's first faith be wan, 

And thou wilt love again, again love me 
For what I am — no saint, but still a man 
That worships thee. 

Owen Meredith 



WHEN LOVE SHALL COME 

WHEN Love shall come — 
Shall lay his torch upon your slumbering heart, 
And as the fiery flames upleaping start 
Wrap your whole soul in its effulgent glow — 
When Love shall come to you, then you shall know. 
You, who so scornfully my hand can slight. 
The bitter anguish that is mine to-night. 

Nay, do not jest ! 
Is it so small a thing, a strong man's love? 
So slight a thing to know that you can move, 
Sway his whole being with your artless wiles, 
Your madd'ning prodigality of smiles — 
Is it so small a thing? Nay, jest not so ! 
When Love shall come to you, then shall you know. 

Oh, love of mine ! 
Half child, half woman! In whose azure eyes 
No touch of lovelight softly gleaming lies, 
Some day you too before Love's feet will fall. 
Your heart leap up to hear his clarion call 
And in a flash reveal yourself new born — 
God pity you if you should meet with scorn, 

When Love shall come. 
117 



HAD I BUT KNOWN 

HAD I but known, long years ago, 
The deep unrest, the weight of woe, 
The pain of having loved you so ! 

Had I but seen through mist of years 
My bitter sacrifice of tears ! 

Had I but felt, as I do now, 

These scars of sorrow on my brow, 
No seeds of promise had I sown. 
My life were not so weary grown. 
Had I but known. 

Clement Scott 



GOOD-BYE 

GOOD-BYE ! good-bye ! How hard to say 
When fondest hearts must sever ! 
One word, one look, thy hand in mine, 
And then we part forever. 

1 
Good-bye ! good-bye ! I hear it still. 

That bitter note of sadness, 
Its lingering echoes sound to me 
A knell of dying gladness. 

Good-bye ! good-bye ! Though sets the sun. 

Though falls the darkness coldly. 
Remember thou hast duties yet, 

And face the future boldly. 
ii8 



Good-bye ! good-bye ! From out the past 
Looks forth thy face to cheer me ; 

Oh, do not ask me to forget, 
If Memory brings thee near me. 



ABSENCE 

WHAT shall I do with all the days and hours 
That must be counted ere I see thy face ? 
How shall I charm the interval that lowers 

Between this time and that sweet time of grace ? 

Shall I in slumber steep each weary sense, 
Weary with longing? — shall I flee away 

Into past days, and with some fond pretence 
Cheat myself to forget the present day? 

Shall love for thee lay on my soul the sin 
Of casting from me God's great gift of time ; 

Shall I these mists of memory locked within, 
Leave and forget life's purposes sublime ? 

Oh ! how, or by what means, may I contrive 

To bring the hour that brings thee back more near? 

How may I teach my drooping hope to live 
Until that blessed time, and thou art here? 

ni tell thee : for thy sake I will lay hold 
Of all good aims, and consecrate to thee, 

In worthy deeds, each moment that is told 
While thou, beloved one ! art far from me. 
119 



For thee, I will arouse my thoughts to try 

All heavenward flights, all high and holy strains ; 

For thy dear sake I will walk patiently 

Through these long hours, nor call their minutes pains. 

I will this dreary task of absence make 
A noble task-time, and will therein strive 

To follow excellence, and to overtake 

More good than I have won, since yet I Uve. 

So may this doomed time build up in me 

A thousand graces which shall thus be thine ; 

So may my love and longing hallowed be, 
And thy dear thought an influence divine. 

Frances Anne Kemble 



FRIENDS 

LET us be friends : we may not now be more : 
Your silent glances make but poor amends 
For all my pain. Speak as you did before — 
Let us be friends. 

Love to my heart its fire no longer lends ; . 
'Tis chilled and hardened to its very core : 
No quickening beat your presence now attends. 

Yet would I not forget the joys of yore ; 

And now that Fate has worked its cruel ends. 
Shake hands and smile ; for my sake, I implore, 
Let us be friends. 

Samuel Wood 

120 



LONGING 

OH would that thou wert with me now, my own, 
For I so need thee, yearn thy voice to hear ; 
Would God my yearning, love, could bring thee near ! 

Would that some gentle spirit heard my moan 
And, touched to pity by its plaintive tone, 

Forth with my message laden, through the air 
Sped swiftly, swiftly, fearing my despair — 
Since I without thee, darling, am so lone — 
And poured my longing in thy tender breast, 

So thou shouldst feel that I did need thee so, 
Wouldst thou not give me pity, so distressed 

With burden of my loneliness and woe? — 
Yea, thou wouldst fly to me, dear love, I know. 
And in the knowing I am soothed and blessed. 

G. H. Westley 



TOO LATE 

THEY were together, — her eyes were wet, 
But her pride was strong and no tears would fall ; 
And he would not tell her he loved her yet, 
Though he yearned to forgive her all. 

So now their lives are forever apart, 

She thinks : "Oh! had I but wept that day! " 

And he, he asks of his lonely heart, 
" Ah ! why did I turn away ? " 

From the Spanish of Gustave Becquer 

121 



AFTER MANY DAYS 

IN autumn's silent twilight, sad and sweet, 
O love, no longer mine, alone I stand ; 
Listening, I seem to hear dear phantom feet 
Pass by me down the golden wave-worn strand : 
I think of things that were and things that be, 
I hear the soft low ripples of the sea. 
That to my thoughts responsive music beat. 

And is it only five years since, O love, 

That we in this old place stood side by side, 

Where in the twilight once again I move? 

Is this the same shore wash'd by the same tide? 

My heart recalls the past a little space. 

The sweet and the irrevocable days ; 

I knew not then how bitter life might prove. 

I loved you then, and shall love till I die ; 
Your way of life is fair, it should be so. 
And I am glad, though in dark years gone by 
Hard thoughts of you I had ; but now I know 
A fairer and a softer path was meet 
For treading of your dainty maiden feet : 
Your life must blossom 'neath a summer sky. 



And so I blame you not because you chose 
A softer path of life than mine could be. 
I keep our secret here, and no man knows 



122 



What passed five years ago Hwixt you and me — 
Two loves begotten at the self-same time, 
When that gold summertide was in its prime : 
One love lives yet, and one died with the rose. 
Philip Bourke Marston 



LOVE THAT AVAILETH 

EASIER it were to give my life to thee, 
Its days of toil and hope, its utmost wealth ; 
To travel the wide earth, the pathless sea, 

Tending thy want, thy sickness, and thy health. 

Such were a summer task, a soul's desire, 

Though I were bared of all things for thy sake. 

There is a sacrifice whose worth is higher 
Than any gift supremest love can make. 

To stand aside while others wait and tend thee — 
To know thee ministered by other care. 

To watch while other loving hands defend thee — 
To see the service which I cannot share — 

To joy when alien kindness is availing — 

To quench the jealous agony, the pain ! — 

O true heart's love, so patient, yet so failing. 

Such a high glory how canst thou attain ? 

Arthur L. Salmon 
123 



SHADOWS 

YOU said, "I love you." Prodigal of sighs, 
You said it o'er and o'er ; I nothing said. 
The lake lies still beneath the moonlit skies — 
The water sleeps when stars shine overhead. 

For this you blame me — but love is not less 
Because its whisper is too faint to hear. 

The sudden sweet alarm of happiness 

Set seal upon my lips when you were near. 

It had been best had you said less — I more : 
Love's first steps falter and he folds his wings. 

On empty nests the garish sun-rays pour — 
Deep shadows fall around the brightest things. 

To-day (how sadly in the chestnut tree 

The faint leaves flutter and the cold wind sighs !) — 
To-day you leave me, for you could not see 

My soul beneath the silence of my eyes. 

So be it, then ; we part ; the sun has set. 

(Ah ! how that wind sighs ! how the dead leaves fall !) 
Perhaps to-morrow whilst my cheek is wet, 

You will have gay and careless smiles for all. 

The sweet '' I love you ! " that must now go by 

And be forgotten, breaks my heart to-day. 
You said it, but you did not feel it — I 
Felt it without a word that I could say. 

C. E. Meetkerke, after Victor Hugo 
124 



THE PRICE 

JUST one kiss — two faces met 
But the brows were knij and the cheeks were wet : 
Just one kiss — then up and away ; 
But its mark will last for many a day. 

Just one kiss, and just one word, 
Softly spoken and hardly heard ; 
Just one word that was said through tears, 
And told the story of all the years. 

Just one look from the deep, dark eyes ; 
Just one grasp at a glorious prize ; 
Just one kiss — then up and away ; 
But ah ! such a heavy debt to pay. 

Walter Merries Pollock 




125 



A WOMAN'S COMPLAINT 

I KNOW that deep within your heart 
You hold me shrined apart from common things, 
And that my step, my voice, can bring to you 
A gladness that no other presence brings. 

And yet, dear love, throughout the weary days 
You never speak one word of tenderness. 

Nor stroke my hair, nor softly clasp my hand 
Within your own in loving mute caress. 

You think, perhaps, I should be all content 
To know so well the loving place I hold 

Within your life, and so you do not dream 
How much I long to hear the story told. 

You cannot know, when we two sit alone, 

And tranquil thoughts within your mind are stirred, 

My heart is crying like a tired child 

For one fond look, one gentle, loving word. 

Perhaps sometimes you breathe a secret prayer 
That choicest blessings unto me be given. 

But if you say aloud, ^- God bless thee, dear,"' 
I should not ask a greater boon from heaven. 

'Tis not the boundless water ocean holds 

That gives refreshment to the thirstv flowers. 

But just the drops that, rising to the skies. 

From thence descend in softly falling showers. 
126 



What matters that our granaries are filled 
With all the richest harvest's golden stores, 

If we who own them cannot enter in, 

But famished, stand below the close-barred doors ? 

And so 'tis said that those w^io should be rich 
In that true love which crowns our earthly lot, 

Go praying with white lips from day to day 
For love's sweet tokens, and receive them not. 



THE SECRET 

MY soul its secret has, my life too has its mystery, 
A love eternal in a moment's space conceived ; 
Hopeless the evil is, I have not told its history. 
And she who was the cause, nor knew it nor believed. 
Alas ! I shall have passed close by her unperceived. 
Forever at her side, and yet forever lonely, 
I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only 
Daring to ask for naught, and having naught received. 

For her, though God has made her gentle and endearing. 
She will go on her way distraught and without hearing 
These murmurings of love that round her steps ascend ; 
Piously faithful still unto her austere duty. 
Will say, when she shall read these lines full of her 

beauty, 
'' Who can this woman be ? " — and will not comprehend. 
H. W. Longfellow, 
From the French of Felix Arvers 
127 



DO YOU? 

DO you feel sometimes in your dreaming 
The weight of my head on your breast ? 
Or the velvety touch of my kisses 
On your lips in passion impressed ? 

Do you hold me sometimes in your dreaming 
In a rapturous clasp on your heart? 

Or cry in the depth of your yearning 
"Tis cruel to keep us apart?" 

Does my hand with its lingering caresses 
Touch yours with its magic again 

Till, starting, you wake from the pressure 
To find that your dreaming is vain? 

Though light as the fall of a roseleaf, 
YouM feel the sweet weight of my kiss. 

And, starting, you'd waken to kiss me, 
And taste love's ineffable bliss. 



Ah! never again shall I see you, 
Nor look in your proud grand face. 

Nor feel the sw^eet balm of your kisses, 
Or thrill to your tender embrace. 

For our lives lie asunder forever. 
More wide than the cruel sea, 

But I love you ! I love you ! I love you ! 

And in dreams I will linger with thee. 

128 



i 



FROM AFAR 

GO thou thy way. I do not seek to share 
The path which God hath girt with flowers for thee, 
It Hes before thee wrapped in sunshine fair, 

To know thee happy is enough for me. 
If thou art safe and sheltered in the ark 

Of blessed home from earthly stress and strife, 
It is enough for me, far off, to mark 

God's smile, and Love's, complete thy noble life. 
It is enough for me to see thee share 

Life's banquet with thy dearest, crowned with flowers ; 
No sigh of mine shall vex the scented air, 

No tear of mine shall mar thy happy hours. 
I ask not for the children's bread, nor crumb 
Cast to the dog, whose love, like mine, is dumb ! 

I ask for nothing, dear, but this — but this — 

Free leave to love thee all my lone life through ; 
But if God set a limit to thy bliss, 

And change joy's roses to grief's bitter rue, 
Then give me leave to whisper in thine ear 

Of love that lingers in a faithful heart. 
That holds thee, lorn and lonely, dearest — dear; 

Of love, whose idol and whose crown thou art! 
Nay, nay, I dream ! Shall I forecast for thee 

Tears and a stricken heart? Now, God forbid ! 
I love thee, dear. It is enough for me — 

What lies within the solemn future hid. 
Who knows? I know whate'er the years bring round 



129 



THE LAST TALK 

COME out in the garden and walk with me, 
While the dancers whirl to that dreary tune ; 
See ! the moonlight silvers the sleeping sea, 
And the world is as fair as a night in June. 
Let me hold your hand as I used to do — 

This is the last, last time, you know. 
For to-morrow a wooer comes to w^oo 
And to win you, though I love you so. 

You are pale — or is it the moonlight's gleam 

That gives to your face that sorrowful look? 
We must wake at last from our summer dream, 

We have come to the end of our tender book. 
Love, the poet, has written well ; 

He has won our hearts by his poem sweet ; 
And now, at the end, we must say farewell — 

Ah ! but the summer was fair and fleet. 

Do you remember the night we met? 

You wore a rose in your amber hair ; 
Closing my eyes I can see you yet, 

Just as you stood on the topmost stair, 
A flutter of white from head to foot, 

A cluster of buds on your breast. Ah, me ! 
But the vision was never half so sweet 

As it is to-night on my memory. 

Hear the vioPs cry, and the deep bassoon 
Seems sobbing out in its undertone. 

Some sorrowful memory. The tune 
Is the saddest one I have ever known. 
130 



Or is it because we must part to-night, 

That the music seems so sad? Ah, me! — 

You are weeping, love, and your h"ps are white — 
The ways of life are a mystery. 

I love you, love, with a love so true 

That in coming years I shall not forget 
The beautiful face and the dream I knew. 

And memory always will hold regret. 
I stand by the seas as I stand to-night. 

And think of the summer whose blossoms died 
When the frosts of fate fell chill and white 

On the fairest flower of the summertide. 

They are calling you — must I let you go? 

Must 1 say good-by and go my way? 
If we must part, it is better so — 

Good-by's such a sorrowful word to say ! 
Give me, my darling, one last sweet kiss, — 

So we kiss our dear ones and see them die ; 
But death holds no parting so sad as this ; — 

God bless you, and keep you, and so — good-by ! 



A THORN 

AH love ! thy love is like the flowers, 
It fills my life with happy hours, 
With color and perfume ; 
But if I pull the leaves aside 
I find a grief I fain would hide, 
A thorn among the blooms. 
131 



A FAREWELL 

TOO rare a flower is love, its bloom to keep 
In the raw cold of our unlovely clime, 
Too frail to thrive in this our weary time. 
I would not have thy kisses, sweet, grow cheap 

Nor thy dear looks round out an idle rhyme, — 
And so I say, let us loose hands and part ; 
Dear, with my hand you do not loose my heart. 

Were it not sadder, in the years to come, 
To feel the hand-clasp slacken for long use. 
The untuned heart-strings for long stress refuse 

To yield old harmonies, the songs grow dumb 
For weariness, and all the old spells lose 

The first enchantment ? Yet this thing must be. 

Love is but mortal, save in Memory. 

Sweet is the fragrance of remembered love ; 
The memory of clasped hands is very sweet. 
Joined hands that did not once too often meet 
And never knew that saddest word " Enough ! " 
. And so 'tis well that, ere our springtime fleet, 
Thus in the hey-day of our love part we, — 
Farewell, and all white omens go with thee ! 



CHANGES 

WHOM first we love, you know, we seldom weil 
Time rules us all. And life, indeed, is not 
The thing we planned it out ere hope was dead — 
And then, we women cannot choose our lot. 
132 



Much must be borne which it is hard to bear : 
Much given away which it were sweet to keep — 

God help us all ! who need, indeed, His care. 
And yet, I know, the Shepherd loves His sheep. 

My little boy begins to babble now 

Upon my knee his earliest infant prayer. 

He has his father's eager eyes, I know. 

And, they say too, his mother's sunny hair. 

But when he sleeps and smiles upon my knee. 
And I can feel his light breath come and go, 

I think of one (Heaven help and pity me !) 
Who loved me, and whom I loved, long ago. 

Who might have been . . . ah, what I dare not think ! 

We all are changed. God judges for us best. 
God help us do our duty and not shrink. 

And trust in heaven humbly for the rest. 

But blame us women not, if some appear 

Too cold at times ; and some too gay and light. 

Some griefs gnaw deep ; some woes are hard to bear ; 
Who knows the Past ? and who can judge us right ? 

Ah, were we judged by what we might have been. 

And not by what we are, too apt to fall ! — 
My little child — he sleeps and smiles between 

These thoughts and me. In Heaven we shall know 
all. 

Owen Meredith 



^33 



WISTFUL 

DEAR, it is hard to stand 
So near thy life, yet so apart. 
So near — I think so near — thine heart; 
So near that I could touch thine hand, 
And yet so far I dare not take 
That hand in mine for love's dear sake. 

So near that I can look my fill 

At stated times upon thy face. 

So far that I must yield the place 

To others, sore against my will, 

So near that I can see thee smile, 

So far, my poor heart aches the while. 

Dear, it is hard to know, 

Whatever the stress, the storm, the strife, 

The fret, the sadness of thy life, 

I have no power, no right to show 

Love in my heart, love on my lips, 

To comfort thee in life's eclipse ; 

No right to claim before the rest. 
The privilege to weep with thee ; 
No right across life's stormy sea, 
To bid thee welcome to my breast ; 
No right to share thy hopes, thy fears, 
Through all the weary, weary years. 

Dear, it is hard to feel 
That bliss may meet thee, full and fair, 
Wherein poor I can have no share ; 
134 



That the wide future may reveal 
The joys of harvest manifold, 
While I stand lonely in the cold. 

Dear, it is hard. But God doth know 

How leal the heart that beats for thee ; 

It is enough, enough for me 

To love thee. Let the future show 

Love can live on for its own sake, 

Though eyes may weep, though heart may ache. 



A BROKEN SONNET 

YOU loved me once, I know ! 
I had the first, the best ; let others reap 
The after-fruits, although it cost me pain ; 
Although I sometimes turn aside and weep 
To see Love's golden grainage scattered so ; — 
Borne where each errant wind may chance to blow,- 
The gift you gave you cannot take again. 

You love me still, I know! 

It is not possible you should forget 

All I have been in the dear days gone by ; 

For Time is strong, but Memory stronger yet 

On his gray fortress walls doth greenly grow ; 

You could not hate me if you would, and — O! 

I loved, and I shall love you till I die ! 

Clo Graves 
135 



FORGET THEE 



" PORGET thee ? " If to dream by night, 
-*• And muse on thee by day ; 
If all the worship deep and wild 

A lover^s heart can pay ; 
If prayers in absence breathed for thee, 

To Heaven's protecting power, 
If winged thoughts that flit to thee 

A thousand in an hour ; 
If busy Fancy blending thee 

With all my future lot, — 
If this thou calPst '' forgetting," 

Thou indeed shalt be forgot. 



'• Forget thee ? " Bid the forest birds 

Forget their sweetest tune ; 
"Forget thee?" Bid the sea forget 

To swell beneath the moon ; 
Bid thirsty flowers forget to drink 

The eve's refreshing dew ; 
Thyself forget thine own dear land 

And its mountains wild and blue ; 
Forget each old familiar face, 

Each long-remembered spot, 
When these things are forgot by thee, 

Then thou shalt be forgot. 

Keep, if thou wilt, thy maiden peace. 

Still calm and fancy-free. 
For God forbid thy gladsome heart 

Should grow less glad for me ; 
136 



Yet while thy heart is still unworn, 

Oh ! bid not mine to rove, 
But let it nurse its humble faith, 

And uncomplaining love ; — 
If these preserved for patient years, 

At last avail me not, 
Forget me then ; — but ne'er believe 

That thou canst be forgot ! 

John Moultrie 



TO 



WHAT boots it that thine eye is bright, 
Thy bosom fair, thy footsteps light, 
Since I must never see 
That eye beam brightly me to greet, 
That step bound lightly me to meet. 
That bosom heave for me ? 

Albeit indifferent as thou art, 

I would have clasped that icy heart 

As closely to my own 
As he of old embraced the form, 
Which grew beneath the kisses warm, 

When love gave life to stone. 

How few in this cold world have met 
The one of whom they dreamt ; — and yet 

To waste the dreary hours 
In a lone wild were not such woe 
As to have met that one, and know 
She never can be ours. 

Lord Dalling 
137 



THE MAID I LOVED 

THE maid I loved, and still shall love, 
What song of mine her praise may render? 
All song could say, she stands above, 

Beyond all words, being dear and tender. 
Bright as the stars, yet not so high ; 

Fair as the moon, but far less fickle ; 
Sweet as the lovely months that lie 

Between the seedtime and the sickle. 
Oh, were my vows like breezes shy. 

With fragrant sighs to breathe upon her — 
Oh, were my hopes like flow^ers to lie 

About her path to do her honor — 
Oh, were my voice a silver lyre 

To sound her praise and sing her glory — 
My happiness and hearfs desire 

Had not been now an ended story. 



I 



REMINISCExNXE 

T was a summer eve, and underneath 
The shadowy trees you kissed me. In my heart 



That moment came a new, fair world to light — 

A world illumined by a rosy glow^ 

Of new, fond thoughts, and passionate, sw^eet joy! 



When you were gone I doted o'er the thought 
That you were mine, dear love! I pressed my hands 
Above my throbbing heart, that beat so fast 

138 




The 3IAID I LOVED 



With knowledge of its own intense delight. 
I slept and in my dreams you kissed me still. 



The sun rose fair. I could not rest, but longed 

To be alone among the fields and trees, 

For I was stifled with sweet thoughts, and love 

Ran riot in my heart. . . . And as I walked, 

The flowers, the birds, the breeze that floated by 

All seemed to know my secret and to say : 

" He loves you, loves you, loves you — only you ! ' 



Ah, years have passed since then — and yet to-day 
I still can thank the dear God over all 
In that to me it once was given to know 
Such perfect joy as in that hour when first 
You kissed me, darling, and my heart awoke. 



THY WITCHING LOOK 

THY witching look is like a two-edged sword 
To pierce his heart by wliom thou art surveyed ; 
Thy rosy lips the precious balm afford 

To heal the wound thy keen-edged sword has made. 

I am its victim ; I have felt the steel ; 

My heart now rankles with the smarting pain ; 
Give me thy lips the bitter wound to heal — 

Thy lips to kiss, and I am whole again. 

Fro7n the Arabic 

139 



LOVE UNRETURNED 

MY soul, where is the fruit of thy long pain 
To render to the husbandman above ? 
Thou hast been watered by my tears of love 
For that pure spirit whose serene disdain 
Pierced like a ploughshare through thee, leaving plain 
Forgotten depths wind-sown, whereout I strove 
Unceasingly to gather what might prove, 
In time of harvest, tares instead of grain. 

" Alas ! " my soul said, " had but Love passed by 
And cast into the furrows as he went 
Sowing beside all waters, in the spring, 

Methinks I had borne fruit abundantly 
For God to garner, as He sits intent 
Above the angels at their winnowing." 

H. C. Beeching 



WANT 

YOU swore you loved me all last June : 
And now December's come and gone. 
The Summer went with you — too soon. 
The Winter goes — alone. 

Next Spring the leaves will all be green ; 

But love like ours once turned to pain, 
Can be no more what it hath been, 

Though roses bloom again. 
140 



Return, return the unvalued wealth 
1 gave ! which scarcely profits you — 

The heart's lost youth — the soul's lost health — 
In vain! . . . false friend, adieu! 

I keep one faded violet 

Of all once ours, — you left no more. 
What I have lost I may forget, 

But you cannot restore. 

Owen Meredith 



WHEN TIME HATH BEREFT THEE 

WHEN time hath bereft thee of charms now divine, 
When youth shall have left thee, nor beauty be 
thine. 
When roses shall vanish that circle thee now 
And the thorn thou wouldst banish shall press on thy 
brow, 
In the hour of thy sadness, then think upon me. 
And the thought shall be madness, deceiver, to thee. 

When he who could turn thee from virtue and fame 
Shall leave thee and spurn thee, to sorrow and shame, 
When by him requited thy brain shall be stung, 
Thy hope shall be blighted, thy bosom be wrung ; 
In the depth of thy sadness, then think upon me. 
And the thought shall be madness, deceiver, to thee. 

Old Song 
141 



GIVE ME MORE LOVE 

C"^IVE me more love or more disdain; 
^ The torrid or the frozen zone 
Brings equal ease unto my pain, 

The temperate affords me none ; 
Either extreme of love or hate 
Is better than a calm estate. 

Give me a storm ; if it be love, 

Like Danae in a golden shower 
I'll bathe in bliss ; or if it prove 

Disdain, that torrent will devour 
My vulture hopes ; and he's possessed 

Of heaven that's but from hell released : 
Then crown my joys or cure my pain ; 

Give me more love or more disdain. 

Thomas Carew 



LOST AND FOUND 

I LOST the brook as it wound its way 
Like a thread of silver hue ; 
Through greenwood and valley, through meadow gay, 

It was hidden from my view : 
But I found it again in a noble river, 

Sparkling and broad and free, 
Wider and fairer growing ever 
Till it reached the boundless sea. 
142 



I lost a tiny seed I sowed 

With many a sigh and tear, 
And vainly waited through sunshine and cold 

For the young green to appear ; 
But surely after many long days 

The blossom and fruit will come, 
And the reapers on high the sheaves will raise 

For a joyful harvest home. 

I lost a love that made my life, 

A love that was all for me ; 
Oh, vainly I sought it amid the strife 

On this dark and raging sea : 
But deeper and purer I know it waits 

Beyond my wistful eyes ; 
I shall find it again within the gates 

Of the garden of paradise. 



6="% 




143 



LONGINGS 

IF I could hold your hands to-night, 
Just for a little while, and know 
That only I of all the world 
Possessed them so. 

If I could see you here to-night, 

Between me and the twilight pale — 

A slender shape in that old chair, 
So Hght and frail. 

Your cool white dress, its foldings lost 
In one broad sweep of shadow gray ; 

Your weary head just dropped aside, 
That old sweet way. 

Bowed like a flower-cup dashed with rain. 
The darkness crossing half your face. 

And just the glimmer of a smile 
For one to trace. 

If I could see your eyes, that reach 

Far out into the farthest sky. 
Where past the trail of dying suns 

The old years lie. 

If I could touch your lips to-night. 

And steal the sadness from their smile. 

And find the last kiss they have kept 
This weary while! 
144 



If it could be — Oh, all in vain 
The restless trouble of my soul 

Sets as the great tides of the main 
Toward your control ! 

In vain the longings of the lips, 
The eyes' desire and the pain ; 

The hunger of the heart — O love, 
Is it in vain? 



TOO LATE WE MET 

TOO late we met, love, you and I, 
We may not now be loving ; 
For should the heart indulge a sigh 
The conscience wakes reproving. 
Ah, yes, too late ! the die is cast, 

Our hearts must hide their sorrow ; 
Farewell, this meeting is the last, 
We part for aye to-morrow. 

Had we but met in earlier days. 

Ere other chains had bound us ; 
Had Destiny but crossed our ways 

And Love unfettered found us ; 
Life had not known its lonely past 

Nor feared a dreary setting. 
Nor all our days been overcast 

With longing and regretting. 

G. H. Westley 
145 



1 



ABSENCE 

IN this fair strangers eyes of gray 
Thine eyes, my love I I see. 
I shiver ; for the passing day 
Hath borne me far from thee. 

This is the curse of life ! that not 

A nobler, calmer train 
Of wiser thoughts and feelings blot 

Our passions from our brain. 

But each day brings its petty dust 
Our soon-choked souls to fill ; 

And we forget because we must, 
And not because we will. 

Matthew Arnold 



HER ROSES 

AGAINST her mouth she pressed the rose, and there 
'Neath the caress of lips as soft and red 
As its own petals, quick the bright bud spread 

And ope'd, and flung its fragrance on the air. 
It ne'er again a bud's young grace can wear ! 

O love, regret it not ! It gladly shed \ 

Its soul for thee, and though thou kiss it dead f 

It does not murmur at a fate so fair. ^ j 

1y 

Thus, once, thou breath'dst on me, till every germ 

Of love and song broke into rapturous flower, 
And sent a challenge upward to the sky. 
146 



( 



What if too sweet fruition set a term 
Too brief to all things? I have lived my hour, 
And die contented, since for thee I die. 

Owen Innsly 



TO 



IN years to come I ask thee not to say : 
" I loved him once ; once I did hold him dear : 
Ah no ! long since I put that hope away, 
And buried it in smiles, without a tear. 
But say : "'Mid all who worshipped at my feet 
Exalting me, 'mid all who loved me best. 
As I remember now, I think there beat 
No heart more fondly in a single breast, 
No eye that brightened quicker when I came, 
No hand that lay more longingly in mine. 
No voice that knew a tenderer tone to name 
My name than his whose love seemed half divine." 
If this thou say, though I be dead the while, 
The words will reach me ; I shall hear, and smile. 

Owen Innsly 



Love makes our darkest days 

In golden suns go down! 

So let us clothe our hearts with love 

And crown us with Love's crovyn. 

Gerald Massey 
147 



THOU CANST NOT FORGET 

THOU canst not forget me, for memory will fling 
Her light o'er oblivion's dark sea ; 
And where'er thou roamest a something will cling 

To thy bosom that whispers of me. 
Though the chords of thy spirit I never may sweep, 

Of my touch they'll retain a soft thrill, 
Like the low undertone of the murmuring deep 
When the wind that has stirred it is still. 

The love that is kept in the beauty of trust, 

Cannot pass like the foam from the seas. 
Or a mark that the finger hath made in the dust, 

When 'tis swept by the breath of the breeze. 
They tell me my love thou wilt calmly resign, 

Yet I ever, while listening to them, 
Will sigh for the heart that was linked unto mine 

As a rosebud is linked to its stem. 

Thou canst not forget me! Too long hast thou flung 

Thy spirit's soft pinions o'er mine ; 
Too deep was the promise that round my lips clung, 

As they softly responded to thine. 
In the dusk of the twilight, beneath the blue sky, 

My presence will mantle thy soul, 
And a feeling of sadness will rush to thine eye. 

Too deep for thy manhood's control. 

Thou canst not forget me! The passion that dwelt 

In thy bosom wdll slumbering lie. 
In the memory of all thou hast murmured and felt 
148 



The thought of me never can die. 
Thou mayst turn to another, and wish to forget, 

But the wish will not bring thee repose ; 
For, oh ! thou wilt find that the thorns of regret 

Were but hid by the leaves of the rose. 

By a Virginia Lady 



OLD SONG 

THE minstrel touched his silver strings 
His voice rose clear and free. 
And like a wilding bird that sings 

Poured forth his melody ; 
He sang of Love, that wondrous power 

To torture and to fret — 
Oh what is Love — what does Love mean? 
Regret, sweetheart, regret. 

So pluck the wild rose from the tree — 

Ere long 'twill fade away ; 
So cage some bright-winged butterfly 

To die with parting day ; 
They are more lasting yet than Love 

That heart-bewitching snare — 
For what is Love — what does Love mean? 

Despair, sweetheart, despair. 



Pains of love be sweeter far 
Than all other pleasures are. 

149 



Dryden 



THE PAIN OF LOVE 

A MIGHTY pain to love it is, 
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss, 
But of all pains, the greatest pain 
It is to love, and love in vain. 



Love in her sunny eyes does basking play ; 
Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair ; 
Love does on both her lips forever stray. 
And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there ; 
In all her outward parts Love's always seen, 
But oh! he never went within. 

Abraham Cowley 

VALE! 

GOOD-B Y, good-by ! I have no chain to hold you. 
No soft spun web of love wherein to fold you ; 
You wove the web that you have riven apart. 
And so — good-by, sweetheart ! 

It was your eyes, dear, not my lips deceived you ; 
You told their tale, and I, alas, believed you, 
Who said I had gold hair and eyes of blue, 
And was the world to you. 

Now that your eyes forget their foolish story, 
Straight falls from me my borrowed crown of glory ; 
My eyes are gray and colorless my hair — 
Just as they always were. 
150 



And I — (who was the world to you — you swore it !) 
Have known a world's delight, and thank God for it. 
What's left of life is little enough to pay 
For one imperial day. 

" Tis given to man to mix with men and let 
Strong worldly clamors drown his spirits cry : 
The woman only can regret, regret. 
And wearied with regretting, yearn to die." 



" Though Fate may part and seas may sever, 
Love for an hour is love forever." 







SI 



IV 

LOVE'S NIGHT 



4 




To know, to esteem, to love — and then to part. 
Makes up lifers tale to many a feelijig heart. 
S. T. Coleridge 



Alas, how easily things go wrong ! 
A sigh too much or a kiss too long ; 
There comes a ?nist and a blinding rain. 
And things are never the same again. 




ALAS THE SONGS! 



ALAS the songs ! — the songs of Love and Youth 
The burgeoning of Spring ! 
Give ye no ear ! no ear ! For Love in truth, 
Love is a bitter thing. 



Sorrow of unborn years to him who sips 

Of that sweet stinging wine. 
What savor now thereof upon our lips — 

On mine and thine? 

Once did we quaff the juice intoxicate 

With promise of the years. 
" Bide ye the lees ! '' they cried. We let them prate. 

We had no fears. 



The end has fallen upon us over-soon. 

The promise is forsworn. 
The day should yet be high : 'tis afternoon : 

And Night is born. 



John W. De Lys 



57 



RUE 

DEAR, it is twilight time, the time of rest ; 
Ah ! cease that weary pacing to and fro ; 
Sit down beside me in this cushioned nest, 

Warm with the brightness of our ingle-glow. 
Dear, thou art troubled. Let me share thy lot 

Of shadow, as I shared thy sunshine hours. 
I am no child, though childhood, half forgot, 

Lies close behind me, with its toys and flowers. 
I am a woman waked by happy love 

To keep home's sacred altar-fire alight ! 
Thou hast elected me to stand above 

All others in thine heart. I claim my right. 
Not wife alone, but mate and comrade true ; 
I shared thy roses, let me share thy rue ! 

Bitter? I know it. God hath made it so. 

But from his hand shall we take good alone 
And evil never? Let the world's wealth go, 

Life hath no loss which love cannot atone. 
Show me the new hard path that we must tread, 

I shall not faint, nor falter by the way ; 
And be there cloud or sunshine overhead, 

I shall not fail thee to my dying day. 
But love me, love me, let our hearts and lips 

Cling closer in our sorrow than in joy ; 
Let faith outshine our fortunes in eclipse, 

And love deem wealth a lost and broken toy. 
Joy made us glad, let sorrow find us true 
God blessed our roses, He will bless our rue ! 



158 



LIFE'S UNEXPRESSED 

THERE are sweeter words than were ever said, 
And sweeter songs than were ever sung, 
And fonder tears than were ever shed 

By the eyes of the old or the hearts of the young, 

For the love that speaks is the love that dies, 
And soonest yields unto Time's control ; ' 

But the deathless love is the love that lies 
Deeply enshrined in the speechless soul. 

For the tenderest music the spirit knows 
Is the music that cannot be expressed. 

And the fondest tears of man are those 
That lie unwept in his breaking breast. 

For the soul is strong and the flesh is weak, 
And fonder far than the words we hear 

Are the words our lips refuse to speak 

When they whom our souls love best are near. 

Ah me ! to think that it must be so ! 

To think, ah me ! in the morning light 
That the hearts we love must never know 

The tears we weep through the lonely night ! 

Ah ! ever thus with the old and young. 

Till both are laid with the quiet dead, 

The sweetest songs must remain unsung, . 

And the fondest words remain unsaid. 

Anne Elders 
159 



SEPARATION 

IF it were land, oh, weary feet could travel, 
If it were sea, a ship might cleave the wave, 
If it were Death, sad Love could look to heaven. 
And see through tears the sunlight on the grave. 
Not land, or sea. or death keeps us apart 
But only thou, oh unforgiving Heart. 

If it were land, through piercing thorns I'd travel. 
If it were sea, Fd cross to thee, or die. 
If it were Death, Fd tear Life's veil asunder 
That I might see thee with a clearer eye. 

Ah none of these could keep our souls apart — 
Forget, forgive, oh unforgiving Heart. 

Anne Reeve Aldrich 



DE PROFUNDIS 

DEAR and desired above all things that are ; 
More dear than life, and more desired than death, 
Fairer than June — more sweet than April's breath, 
More unattainable than any star ! 

I move below you in the world of men, 

And work and w^ait and love you all the time. 
Bidding my heart mock, in a peal of rhyme. 

Its own wild prayer to be beloved again. 

Since in your world of light, and strength and peace 
You move, untouched by our poor hopes and fears. 
Why do I send this song to vex your ears ? 

Why cross your sunlight with such words as these ? 
i6o 



I 



Because — worth goes not always vowed to worth, 
And Life and Death both come to those who wait ; 
April and June come, though they tarry late ; 

And sometimes stars grow kind, and stoop to earth. 



LOVE NOT 

LOVE not, love not! ye hapless sons of clay! 
Hope's gayest wreaths are made of earthly 
flowers, — 
Things that are made to fade and fall away 
Ere they have blossomed for a few short hours. 

Love not! 

Love not! The thing you love may change, 
The rosy lip may cease to smile on you, 
The kindly beaming eye grow cold and strange. 
The heart still warmly beat, yet not be true. 

Love not! 

Love not! The thing you love may die, — 
May perish from the gay and gladsome earth ; 
The silent stars, the blue and smiling sky. 
Beam o'er its grave, as once upon its birth. 

Love not! 

Love not! Oh, warning vainly said 
In present hours as in the years gone by! 
Love flings a halo round the dear one's head 
Faultless, immortal, till they change or die. 

Love not! 
Hon. Mrs. Norton 
i6i 



HER LAST WORDS 

NO ! let me alone — 'tis better so, 
My way and yours are widely far apart. 
Why should you stop to grieve about my woe ? 
And why should I not step across your heart? 
A man's heart is a poor thing at the best, 
And yours is no whit better than the rest. 

I loved you once ! Ah, yes ! Perhaps I did. 
Women are curious things, you know, and strange. 
And hard to understand, and then besides. 
The key of her soul's music oft doth change. 
And so — ah ! do not look at me that way ! 
I loved you once, but that was yesterday ! 

Sometimes a careless word doth rankle deep — 
So deep that it can change a heart like this. 
And blot out all the long sweet throbbing hours 
That went before, crowned gold with rapturous bliss ; 
So deep that it can blot out hours divine. 
And make a heart as hard and cold as mine. 

Nay, do not speak, I never can forget ; 
So let us say good-by and go our ways ; 
Mayhap the pansies will start from the dust 
Of our past days — the slumbrous happy days 
When I was trusting, and life knew no grief, 
But blossomed with my clinging, sweet belief. 

Good-by ! good-by ! Part of my life you take. 
Its fairest part. Nay, do not touch my lips. 
Once they were yours, but now, oh, my lost love ! 
162 



I 



I would not have you touch my finger tips, 
And saying this I feel no chill of pain, 
I cannot even weep above my slain. 

If God cares aught for women who have loved 
And worshipped idols false, I trust He will 
Keep us so far apart that never more 
Our paths may cross. Why are you standing still? 
Good-by, I say. This is the day's dim close ; 
Our love is no more worth than last year's rose. 



LAST WORDS 

YOU can write down sweet words in a letter, 
And try to send love by the post ; 
You can tell me how vastly "'tis better 

To have played the game Love, though weVe lost. 

You say you are wretched without me ; 

Have you ever thought what I endure ? 
The sickening pain — ah ! don't doubt me — 

Which not even your presence could cure. 

For you know that our passionate yearning 

Can never be satistied here ; 
In the long lane of Life, there's no turning 

That I see, which will bring us more near. 

By one act of folly once parted 
We must live out our lives, you and I ; 

And though we are both broken-hearted. 
Let us whisper, good-by, love, good-by. 
163 



A FALSE STEP 



SWEET, thou hast trod on a heart. • 

Pass ! there's a world full of men, I 

And women as fair as thou art I 

Must do such thino^s now and then. i 



M 



Thou hast only stepped unaware, — 

Malice, not one can impute ; 
And why should a heart have been there 

In the way of a fair woman's foot? 

It was not a stone that could trip, 
Nor was it a thorn that could rend : 

Put up thy proud underlip ! 

'Twas merely the heart of a friend. 

Mrs. E. B. Browning 



A LOVE-LETTER 

Y love — my chosen — but not mine ! I send 
My whole heart to thee in these words I write 



So let the blotted lines, my soul's sole friend 
Lie upon thine, and there be blest at night. 



Light, music, odor, beauty, love itself: — 
Whatever is apart from and above 

Those daily needs which deal with dust and pelf. 
164 



I 



My wildest wish was vassal to thy will. 

My haughtiest hope a pensioner on thy smile, 
Which did with light my barren being fill, 

As moonHght glorifies some desert isle. 

I never thought to know what I have known — 

The rapture, dear, of being loved by you : 
I never thought within my heart to own 

One wish so blest that you should share it too. 
****** 
Perchance I shall not ever see again 

Your face. I know that I shall never see 
Its radiant beauty as I saw it then. 

Save by this lonely lamp of memory. 

Farewell, and yet again farew^ell, and yet 

Never farewell — if farewell mean to fare 
Alone and disunited. Love hath set 

Our days in music to the self-same air. 
****** 
Man cannot make, but may ennoble fate 

By nobly bearing it. So let us trust 
Not to ourselves but God, and calmly wait 

Love's orient, out of darkness and of dust. 

Owen Meredith 




FROM THE DEPTHS 

TWILIGHT and trees, 
A soft cool air that blows from the west, 
The clear wide vault of an open sky, 
The tender twitter of birds in their nest — 
And a memory. 

Is it so long 
Since I kissed your lips and your snow-cold brow? 

I had sinned with a laugh in my soul before ; 
But I loved you then, as I love you now 

And forever more. 

Is it lonely in heaven ? 
Dear heart, in the blaze of that shining throng 

Of deathless souls, do you sometimes wait 
For another's voice to join in the song 

That he learned too late? 

Have pity, God! 
If I cannot be where my darling is. 

If my scarlet sinning is past regret. 
For the sake of sorrow, grant only this. 

That she may forget. 



GOOD-BY 

GOOD-BY, dear eyes ; a little Avhile 
You lit the darkness of my days ; 
Now life is naught, and nothing stays ; 
Good-by, dear eyes, and tender smile 
And loving ways. 

1 66 



Good-by, dear hands ; and now I press 
For the last time your whiteness slim 
And if my eyes with tears are dim, 

You will not love them, dear, the less 
For tears in them. 

Good-by, dear lips, where Death has set 
His kiss, a colder one than thine ; 
But in your dwelling-place divine. 

Shall you, dear love, one hour forget 
This kiss of mine ? 



A WOMAN^S ANSWER 

LAST year I was yours for a look or a word — 
Yours, body and soul ; yours for evil or good. 
But to-day I could meet you with pulses unstirred, 
Unimpassioned in mood. 

Had you chosen to speak in those days that are gone, 
Yours was it to speak, it could never be mine — 

N'ow the hour is over, the dream now is done. 
Can it be you repine? 

Is it strange, do you think, that my love has grown cold. 

Starved to death, for the lack of a word, of a smile? 
Once it might have been yours, friend, to have and to 
hold, 
Had you thought it worth while. 

Lydia M. Wood 
167 



H 



HAST THOU FORGOTTEN ME 



AST thou forgotten me? The days are dark, 
Light ebbs from heaven, and songless soars the 



lark; 

Vexed like my heart, loud moans the unquiet sea — 
Hast thou forgotten me? 

Hast thou forgotten me? O dead delight 
Whose dreams and memories torture me at night — 
O love — my life ! O sweet, so fair to see ! 
Hast thou forgotten me ? 

Hast thou forgotten? Lo, if one should say — 
Noontide were night, or night were flaming day — 
Grief bhnds mine eyes, I know not which it be ! 
Hast thou forgotten me? 

Hast thou forgotten? Ah ! if Death should come, 
Close my sad eyes, and charm my song-bird dumb, — 
Tired of strange woes — my fate were hailed with glee - 
Hast thou forgotten me ? 

Hast thou forgotten me ? What joy have 1 ? 
A dim blown bird beneath an alien sky, — 
O that on mighty pinions I could flee — 
Hast thou forgotten me? 

Hast thou forgotten ? Yea, Love's horoscope 
Is blurred with tears and suffering beyond hope — 
Ah ! like dead leaves forsaken of the tree. 
Thou hast forgotten me ! 

Philip J. Holdsworth 
168 



I 



.1 

i 



ONLY FOR THIS 

WAS it for this, dear heart, we met — 
You and I, in that May-time sweet — 
Met and lingered with careless feet, 
Till love-lit eyes with tears grew wet, 
Only to dream of a vanished bliss — 
Only for this? 

Was it for this the days were bright, 
FlowVs so gay and skies so blue? 
Was it for this the love we knew 

Touched all the world with golden light, 
Only to grieve for the love we miss — 
Only for this ? 

Was it for this we parted, dear, 
You and I, in such sore distress. 
Whispering our vows with fond caress. 

Dreaming of love 'mid every tear. 
Only to sigh for that farewell kiss — 
Only for this ? 

Only to watch with bitter woe 

Year after year the May flowers bloom? 
Only to miss through sun and gloom 
One face — one voice of long ago ? 
Only to dream of a vanished bliss — 
Only for this ? 

Louisa Jackson 



169 



REGRETS 

IF we had but known, if we had but known, 
Those summer days together, 
That one would stand next year alone, 
In the blazing July weather ! 
Why, we trifled away the golden hours 
With gladness and beauty and calm, 
Watching the glory of blossoming flowers, 
Breathing the warm air's balm. 
Seeing the children like sunbeams play 
In the glades of the long cool wood ; 
Hearing the wild birds carol gay, 
And'the song of the murmuring flood. 
Rich gems to Time's pitiless river thrown — 
If we had but known, if we had but known ! 

If we had but known, if we had but known, 

Those winter nights together. 

How one would sit by the hearth alone 

In the next December weather ! 

Why, we sped those last hours each for each, 

With music, and games, and talk. 

The careless, bright, delicious speech, 

With no doubt or fear to balk. 

Touching on all things grave and gay 

With the freedom of two in one. 

Yet leaving, as happy people may, 

So much unsaid, undone. 

Ah, priceless hours forever flown, 

If we had but known, if we had but known ! 



170 



If we had but known, if we had but known, 

While yet we stood together, 

How a thoughtless look, a slighting touch 

Would sting and jar forever ! 

Cold lies the turf for the burning kiss, 

The cross stands deaf to cries. 

Dull as the wall of silence is 

Are the gray unanswering skies ! 

We can never unsay the thing we said, 

While the weary life drags past ; 

We can never stanch the wound that bled 

Where a chance stroke struck it last. 

Oh, the patient love 'neath the heavy stone - 

If we had but known, if we had but known ! 



AFTER LOVE 

OTO part now, and parting now. 
Never to meet again ; 
To have done forever, I and thou. 
With joy and so with pain. 

It is too hard, too hard to meet 

As friends and love no more ; 
Those other meetings were too sweet 

That went before. 

And I would have, now love is over, 

An end to all, an end : 
I cannot, having been your lover. 
Stoop to become your friend. 

Arthur Symons 
171 



\ 



LIFE'S PITY 

I THINK the pity of this life is love ; 
For from our love we gather all life's pain, 
And place too oft our hearts on earthly shrines 
Where we would kneel — but where, alas, we fall 
Beneath a shadow ever past recall ; 

We seek for gold, when 'tis but dross that shines. 
Then — if we may not turn our hearts above — 
I know the pity of this life is love. 



FOREVER 

TWO human lives, two kindred hearts, 
By Destiny's decree 
Met in the spring of life, to learn 

Its deepest mystery. 
They dreamed their morning dreams of hope 

Through fair unclouded weather ; 
They opened love's bewitching book 

And read it through together ; 
They saw in one another's eyes 

A deep unspoken bliss ; 
And from each other's lips they took 

Love's ever-ready kiss. 

And then the fate that crushes all 

The sweetest pleasures here, 
Turned hope's glad music to a sigh, 

Its glory to a tear. 
It stepped between them ; ah ! it mocked 

The love it could not kill ; 
172 



It bade them in its fury live, 

And love, and suffer still. 
They tried with outstretched hands to span 

Fate's wide, unyielding "Never." 
The voice of Destiny replied : 

" Forever and forever. '' 

Elizabeth Berry 

ROSES 

A CRIMSON rosebud into beauty breaking, 
A hand outstretched to pluck it ere it fall, 
An hour of triumph and a sad forsaking 
And then a withered roseleaf — that is all. 

A maiden heart that knoweth not love's darting, 
A voice that teacheth love beyond recall. 

An hour of joy, an hour of bitter parting. 
And then a broken heart — and that is all. 




173 



THREE KISSES OF FAREWELL 

THREE, only three, my darling, 
Separate, solemn, slow ; 
Not like the swift and joyous ones 

We used to know. 
When we kissed because we loved each other 

Simply to taste love's sweet. 
And lavished our kisses as the summer 

Lavishes heat ; 
But as they kiss whose hearts are wnmg. 

When hope and fear are spent. 
And nothing is left to give, except 

A sacrament ! 

First of the three, my darling. 

Is sacred unto pain ; 
We have hurt each other often, 

W^e shall again. 
When we pine because we miss each other. 

And do not understand 
How the written words are much colder 

Than eye and hand. 
I kiss thee, dear, for all such pain 

Which we may give or take ; 
Buried, forgiven before it comes. 

For our love's sake. 

The second kiss, my darling ; 

Is full of joy's sweet thrill; 
We have blessed each other always, 

We always will. 

174 



We shall reach until we feel each other 

Beyond all time and space ; 
We shall listen till we hear each other 

In every place ; 
The earth is full of messengers, 

Which love sends to and fro ; — 
I kiss thee, darling, for all joy 

Which we shall know ! 

The last kiss, oh ! my darling — 

My love — I cannot see, 
Through my tears, as I remember 

What it may be. 
We may die and never see each other, 

Die with no time to give 
Any sign that our hearts are faithful 
■ To die, as live. 
Token of what they will not see 

Who see our parting breath. 
This one last kiss, my darling. 

The seal of death ! 

Agnes E. Glase 



INCOMPLETENESS 

I HAVE another life I long to meet. 
Without which life, my life is incomplete. 
O sweeter self ! like me art thou astray? 
Trying with all thy heart to find the way 
To mine? Straying like mine to find the breast 
On which alone can weary heart find rest. 

Octave Feuillet 
175 



DESERTED 

AH, was it nobly done of him, if he 
Could love me not, to speak of love so well ? 
With fervent eloquence checked back with scorn 
The highest and the truest love to tell ? 
Who had no love to give. 

Why did he bend his eyes on me at times, 

Reluctantly, yet lovingly withal? 
Take both my hands in his and calmly speak 

Wise words of counsel, that were so much gall ? 
Who had no love to give. 

And smile sometimes, a bland indulgent smile, 
While listening to the passion of my speech ; 

Lifting his brows, too, with a strange surprise, 
Standing so far above me, out of reach, 
Who had no love to give. 



Ah, well ! He cannot say to-day that I 
Most fully do not understand, whose life 

Has been torn up by root and branch, to strew 
The fairest flowers in his path so rife. 
Who had no love to give. 

Youth could not hold me back. All wisdom died 
My heart's love budded in the bleakest air ; 

And, frozen with the coldness of his smile. 
He turned away and let it perish there. 
Who had no love to give. 



[76 




Deserted 



Does the heart's core send forth such blossoms twice ? 

The gods are not so cruel, life so hard — 
Ah, no ! for such love has no second fruits : 
Lives do not bloom again, so deeply scarred — 
I have no love to give. 

Ethel De Fonblanque 



A CYCLE 

IF he had come in the early dav^^n. 
When the sunrise flushed the earth, 
I would have given him all my heart, 
Whatever the heart was worth. 

If he had come in the noontide hour. 
He would not have come too late; 

I would have given him patient faith, 
For then I had learned to wait. 

If he had come in the after-glow. 

In the peace of eventide, 
I would have given him hands and brain 

And worked for him till I died. 

If he comes now that the sun has set 

And the light has died away, 
I will not give him a broken life 
But will turn and say him, "Nay! " 

C. Brooke 
177 



TRODDEN FLOWERS 

THERE are some hearts that, like the roving vine, 
Cling to unkindly rocks and ruined towers. 
Spirits that suffer and do not repine — 

Patient and sweet as lowly-trodden flowers 
That from the passer's heel arise 
And fling back odorous breath instead of sighs. 

Why should the heavy foot of sorrow press 
The willing heart of uncomplaining love — 

Meek charity that shrinks not from distress, 
Gentleness, loth her tyrants to reprove? 

Though virtue weep forever and lament, 

Will one hard heart turn to her and repent ? 

Why should the reed be broken that will bend, 
And they that dry the tears in others' eyes 

Feel their own anguish swelling without end. 
Their summer darkened with a smoke of sighs? 

Sure, love to some fair region of his own 

Will flee at last, and leave us here alone. 

Love weepeth always — weepeth for the past, 
For woes that are, for woes that may betide ; 

Why should not hard ambition weep at last. 
Envy and hatred, avarice and pride? 

Fate whispers. Sorrow is your lot : 

They would be rebels : love rebelleth not. 

Love's of itself too sweet ; the best of all 
Is when love's honey has a dash of gall. 

Herrick 
178 



f 



FORBIDDEN 

O WEARY feet that on Life's stony ways 
Must tread in separate paths ; while Time''s dark 
wings 
Beat out the lagging hours of all the days, 
Marking the epochs of their wandering ! 
O lonely road ! O tired, pacing feet 
That may not meet. 

O longing hands that may not, must not, clasp 

Those other loved ones in the world's wide night ; 

O parted hands that may not, must not, grasp 
Those other hands with yearnings infinite ! 

O starving lips, whose hunger is but this — 
They may not kiss. 

O aching eyes that shine so far apart. 

Love-haunted eyes that may not, must not, tell 
The secret of the passion-laden heart. 

The whispered secret that they know so well ! 
O hopeless love, that hope of death survives 
In such cleft lives ! 

O souls that never while the world rolls on 

Shall mingle in a speechless ecstasy ! 
O love that lives on hours long dead and gone — 

Bound love that strives so vainly to be free ! 
O joy of life that cometh all too late ! 
O cruel fate ! 



[79 



PARTING WORDS 

FAREWELL, farewell, my dream is o'er, 
I ask no parting token ; 
Nor would I clasp thy hand before 

My last farewell is spoken. 
How coldly fair thy thrice-false face 

Dawns on my sad awaking, 
No anguish there mine eyes can trace, 
Though this fond heart is breaking. 

Be as thou wert before we met ; 

Heave not one sigh, but leave me ; 
These studied looks, that feigned regret, 

Can nevermore deceive me. 
The faltering tones that mock me so, 

Betray the fears that move thee ; 
Cease to degrade thy manhood. — Go ! 

I scorn thee while I love thee. 

Shall I forget the rapturous hours 

Of my too radiant morning — 
The hand that culled the dewy flowers 

My girlish brow adorning? 
Ah, no! for she who scorns thee now 

Will miss its dear caresses ; 
And sorrow to remember how 

It decks another's tresses. 

Alas! this tortured soul of mine, 

Though by thy treason riven, 
Can never cast thee from its shrine 

Unwept and unforgiven. 
1 80 



Nay, I, when youth and hope depart, 
The mournful willow wearing, 

Must still deplore that shallow heart 
That was not worth the sharing. 

The world thou hast deceived so long 

May smile on thee to-morrow ; 
While I alone must bear the wrong. 

The bitterness and sorrow ! 
O cruel world! O world unjust ! 

That passes by unheeding, 
Where love betrayed and blasted trust 

Low in the dust lie bleeding ! 

Go thou thy way ! O heartless one ! — 

Yet stay, a moment only ! 
How shall I face when thou art gone. 

The world, so vast, so lonely? 
The words are like my passing knell : 

Ah me, and must we sever? 
Forget that I have loved thee well — 

Adieu I adieu forever ! 




i8i 



A LOVERS LIFE 

"~r^ WAS Springtime of the day and year, 

J- Clouds of white fragrance hid the thorn. 
My heart unto her heart drew near, 

And ere the dew had fled the morn, | 

Sweet Love was born. -- i 

An August noon, an hour of bHss 

That stands amid my hours alone, 
A word, a look, then — ah, that kiss ! 

Joy's veil was rent, her secret known: 
Love was full grown. 

And now this drear November eve. 

What has to-day seen done, heard said? 
It boots not ; who has tears to grieve a 

For that last leaf yon tree has shed. 
Or for Love dead ? 



o 



BURNT OUT 

NE word and only one, 
Before I go ! 



One sigh and all is done! 
Alas, not so! 



Though Love that was my light 

Is lost for aye, 
My course is set too right 

To swerve or stray. 
182 



T 



Though Love be clean put out 

Yet must I run, 
A lifeless world about 

A lightless sun. 



THE AWAKENED 

AKE back all the words thou hast breathed in my 
ear, 

Take back the fond glance of thy love-lighted eye, — 
No longer, my heart, throb with hope nor with fear. 
No longer, my breast, heave affection's warm sigh. 

Yet think not, thou false one, that dark and forlorn 
The path of the future to me shall still be. 

Though the bright visions of life's early morn 
Have been dimmed and been darkened by thee. 

My soul shall arise exalted and pure 

Unstained by thy falsehood, unharmed by thy art. 
And virtue triumphant with me shall endure 

And heal all the anguish of this wounded heart. 

Elizabeth Hazard 



A pressing lover seldom lacks success, 
Whilst the respectful, like the Greek, sits down 
And wastes a ten years' siege before one town. 

Nicholas Rowe 
183 



FINIS 

THE end draws near. By Fates unseen directed 
Our paths diverging tend. 
To lives monotonous the Unexpected 

Comes as a friend, 
While for a moment joyous smiles of meeting 

The gathering shades dispel. 
Ave et Vale I Lo ! the ancient greeting, 
Hail, and Farewell ! 

A moment more ! And sadness follows after, 

In bursts of keen regret 
That put to silence all the happy laughter 

Wherewith we met. 
The past is dead, the present swiftly fading. 

And in the future dwell 
Hopes faint and few, our longing glance evading. 

Hail, and Farewell ! 

The time has come ! 'Mid alien scenes and faces 

Our lessening lives must lie. 
And pass henceforth through solitary places 

Beneath a stormy sky. 
Clasp hands, dear friend ! Against our best endeavor. 

The tides of Memory swell. 
Part we as those who part indeed forever. 

Hail, and Farewell ! 




i 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



Adams. F. W. L., 8. 
Adcock, A. St, John, 75. 
AVde, Hamilton, 3, 73,79,84, 99. 
Aldrich, Anne Reeve, 160. 
Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, 25. 
Alford, Henry, 93. 
Arnold, Matthew, 146, 
Ashby-Sterry, J., 15. 

Baines, M. A., 7. 
Ball, Edward, 78. 
Barbauld, Anna L., 97. 
Beatty, Pakenham, 76. 
Becquer, Gustave, 121. 
Beeching, H. C, 140. 
Benedict, Hester A., 114. 
Berry, Elizabeth, 172. 
Bourdillon, F. W., 85. 
Bradford. E. E., 83. 
Brooke, C, 177. 
Browning, E. B., 50, 164. 
Butt, G., 109. 
Byron, Lord, 79. 

Carew, Thomas, 142. 
Carey, Henry, 30. 
Chapman, Mary Berri, 35, 61, 
72. 



Churchill, Rose, iii. 
Clarke, Mary Cowden, 32. 
Coleridge, S. T., 97. 
Cornwall, Barry, 37. 
Cowley, Abraham, 150. 

Bailing, Lord, 137. 
Davis, Thomas Osborne, 16. 
De Gruchy, Augusta, 12, 96. 
De Lys, John W., 157. 
Dickens, Charles, 84. 
Doveton, F. B., 29. 
Dryden, J., 149. 
Dutt, Toru, 105. 

Edlin, Henry, 18, 
Elders, Anne, 159. 
Ewing, Juliana H., 61. 

Feuillet, Octave, 175. 
Fonblanque, Ethel, 176. 
Fowler, Ellen T., no. 
Frazer-Tytler, C. C, 38. 
Furley, Catherine G., 28. 

Gifford, Countess of, 33. 
Glase, Agnes E., 174. 
Graves, Clo, 135. 
Gray, Barton, 108, 115. 

85 



Gregory, W. F., 17. 
Greville, Augustus, 8, 10. 
Grey, Ethel, 4. 

Halloran, Henry, 6. 
Hazard, Elizabeth, 183. 
Heine, Heinrich, 22. 
Hemans, Felicia D., 90. 
Henniker, Florence, 106. 
Herloszsohn, Carl, 14. 
Herrick, Robert, 178. 
Holdsworth, Philip J., 168. 
Hood, Thomas, 31. 
Hopkins, Ellice, 68. 
Houghton, Lord, 113. 
Hunt, Josephine, 58. 

Innsly, Owen, 146, 147. 

Jackson, Helen Hunt, 57. 
Jackson, Louisa, 169, 
Jago, Richard (adapted), 88. 
Jenkyn, , 77. 

Kemble, Frances Anne, 119. 

Lang, Andrew, 65. 
Lindsay, Blanche, 76. 
Longfellow, Henry W., 51, 127. 
Lytton, Lord, 44, 53. 

MacDonald, George, 34. 
Marston, Philip Bourke, 122. 
Martyn, M. E., 89. 
Massey, Gerald, 42, 56, 147. 
Matheson, E., 49, 78. 

Matthisson, , 40. 

Meetkerke, C. E., 124. 
Meredith, Owen, 10, 24, 57, 100, 
116, 132, 140, 164. 



Meynell, Alice, 70, 
Moore, Thomas, 81. 
Moultrie, John, 136. 
Myers, Frederick W. H., 30. 

Nichol, H. Ernest, 36. 
Nichols, J. B. B., 25, 66. 
Norton, Hon. Mrs., 82, 161. 

Otvvay, Thomas, 21. 
Oxenford, John, 37. 

Peacock, Thomas Love, 63. 
Pollock, Walter Herries, 125. 
Praed, Winthrop Mackworth, 

16. 
Procter, Adelaide Anne, 54. 

Reiley, Mary T., 14. 
Rogers, Robert Cameron, 54. 
Rossetti, C. G. (adapted), 66. 
Rowe, Nicholas, 183. 

Salmon, Arthur L., 90, 123. 
Sawyer, William, 13. 
Saxe, John Godfrey, 34. 
Scott, Clement, 112, 118. 
Spalding, Susan Marr, 106. 
Strangford, Lord, 52. 
Swain, Charles, 23. 
Syraons, Arthur, 171. 

"Viola," 21, 31, 42, 73. 

Westley, G. H., 67, 80, 121, 

145- • 
Wilbye, John, 80. 
Wood, Lydia M., 167. 
Wood, Samuel, 120. 



186 



4f»i,?| 



